Disecting a Family
by Transparent Existance
Summary: He had lost the family that had been his own, so he sought vengeance on theirs. But was vengeance all that he sought in them, or was there something more?
1. the hunter always gets his prey

**A/N**_I started this before I got the idea for _Sold_, and really liked it, so here it is, though I warn you, it is dark, a reflection of the darkness within humanity. An example of shadowy feelings and dark intensions. _

**Disclaimer:**Criminal minds is not mine, never will be.

**1. The hunter always takes his prey**

He was waiting inside the apartment, hidden in the shadows of a plain bedroom. He had been meticulous in his planning, careful and organized. They would all be within his hands, and he would get the vengeance he so desired.

He would dissect them, taking one at a time until they were all his. He had a plan, it would work, he knew because he had thought about it for so very long. They were a family, a family he had hunted, studied, and thought about. He knew how to take this family, how to claim each of them. He would start with the youngest son, then he would take their daughter, an uncle, both of the aunts, and then the parents. Because, after he had everything they wanted to protect, they would come.

He listened with anxiety as the front door opened, then it closed. He smiled, as he had known, the young son always came home alone.

.-.-.-.-

It was three o' clock in the morning, and they had all been out, trying to enjoy a night without murder, a night where they could just laugh. He had not drank much, but he was tipsy, and all he wanted to do was go to the bathroom, and go to bed.

Reid walked through his apartment without stumbling, something he was quite proud of, considering he had not been able to do so fifteen minutes ago. Fifteen minutes ago, is mind went back in time, back to the smoky, loud bar where they had been. Back to JJ dancing with him, smiling as he shyly tried to think of things to say.

He threw his bag onto his bed, not taking a moment to look over his room, he sometimes did, and went to the bathroom across the hall. He was now feeling remarkably sober and tired.

Reid took three steps into his bedroom and knew that something was wrong. His messenger bag was open! He walked toward it in disbelief, looking inside, he found that his gun was missing.

.-.-.-.-

He watched the son, enjoying the taste of his fear in the air. But he could not savor it, for he needed to be quick. And he was quick, of course he was, like a rabbit, but not a coward. No, a predator, strong and fierce. A hunter.

The boy had barely heard his footfall onto the carpet before he could turn around, and by then he had brought the gun against the boys head, knocking him to the ground and stunning him.

Reid fell to the floor, stunned, afraid. He tried to scramble away, to gain some distance so that he could pull himself to his feet, but his attacker was fast, grabbing him by the hair and yanking him back. He cried out, and was rewarded with a sharp slap before the man covered his mouth tightly. He tried to cry out, to break free of the man's grip, but the man's grip on his hair tightened and his hand closed harder over his mouth, bruising the bones of his jaw. The man released Reid's hair and used his free arm to entrap the intoxicated boy.

Reid screamed against the man's hand, trying to bite him, trying to fight him off. He was violent, but the man was determined. With no effort he picked Reid up and threw him onto the bed. Reid's panic rose as statistics raced through his mind. _God no! _But the man merely held him down, restraining his wrists with one hand, and pinning Reid with his weight.

"You will stop struggling, or I'll do to you whatever your imagining." He threatened.

Reid went still, but the fear still trembled within.

"Good." The man said, his voice harsh. He pulled his hand away from Reid's mouth and fished inside of a black fanny pack at his side. There was a clinking, and then a flash of silver as he pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

"What are you-"

"Don't speak!" The man snapped. He cuffed one of Reid's wrists, then roughly turned him over and cuffed the other behind his back. Then he tied a thick strip of black cloth into his mouth before turning his onto his side. "Stay here." He said to Reid, who was pulling futilely at the handcuffs. The man moved off of the bed, and pulled a length of rope from the fanny pack, which he used to bind Reid's ankles. And then he blindfolded him. Perfect.

Within three minutes, he had completely detained the family's son. He watched the boy struggle, and a wave of sweet domination spread through his body. He grabbed his Polaroid camera, and snapped four pictures, licking his lips as he watched them develop.

This was his first step, take the son, weaken them little by little. But only the daughter would know until he could detain her, and then the uncle. Only after detaining them would he allow the others to know he had the son, then they could know about the daughter and the uncle, after he had taken the aunts. Little by little, he would take them all, he would weaken them, and he would get his vengeance.


	2. to bribe with a life

-1**Disclaimer:** I don't own criminal minds, but I do own a very demented sanity…

**2. To bribe with a life**

The first stop of her Saturday morning was always one of the greatest thrills aside from sitting surrounded by her computers, of speaking to that beautiful dark skinned dream she worked with.

She walked slowly through isle after isle, of the small computer store. Scanning over the new games, browsing through new software and systems. It had been two weeks since she'd had a chance to look, and she was ecstatic.

.-.-.-.-

He smiled, as he had known, she was here. The family's daughter was a bright young woman, she was caring and sweet. She would obey whatever he would ask of her. She was too kind to see her little brother suffer.

Like a coy fox he entered the computer store, looking idly at the trivial things that seemed to excite the daughter. He smiled, picking up one of the games, some kind of hunting game, and carried it with him as he moved casually through the isles. This would be so easy.

He approached her with a smile that had a charisma level of at least 48, friendly and charming. For he could be kind, he could be friendly.

.-.-.-.-

The store was practically empty, it usually was, but she didn't mind. She continued browsing, reading summaries and exploring options when an attractive man handed her a game she had not looked at before.

"You look like a girl who can enjoy a challenging game."

She smiled. "No game is too challenging, sugar." She chuckled, but any trace of joy was gone when she saw what was on the inside flap of the game.

"Oh God," It was Reid, tied up, scared. She turned and looked up at the man, her hands shaking.

"You will go out to your car, and I will join you. We will ride back to your apartment, we will go in. You will do all of this calmly, or I will kill him."

She nodded, her voice locked away.

Garcia smiled at the clerk as she moved toward the door, avoiding their usual half hour long conversation. He looked disappointed, but then, anyone deprived of her company would be.

The man followed at a distance, but his eyes never left her. He quickly purchased the game in which he had hidden Reid's picture and then welcomed himself into Garcia's passenger seat. She started the engine, her hands stilled as she gripped the steering wheel.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Just drive. I know where you live, so don't try anything funny."

"Did you hurt him?" She asked, acid in her voice.

"No, I haven't harmed your brother yet." He answered apathetically.

Garcia was confused, but she tried only to focus on driving and fighting a very real fear. She had seen what he had done to Reid, but didn't know that he hadn't hurt him. She was afraid for him, but also for herself, because she didn't understand what was happening.

She pulled into the parking lot of her apartment building and stopped the car. She faced the man, who smiled brilliantly as he pointed Reid's gun at her.

"Up to your apartment."

She choked back a sob and lead the man up to her apartment, dropping the keys twice as she tried to open the door. She hesitated before opening it and allowing him inside.

"The longer you hold this out, Penelope, the longer your brother spends alone in the dark."

"Reid isn't my brother." She said as she lead him into the apartment.

The man slapped her, his face twisted in sudden anger. "Don't lie to me!"

Garcia cried out, frightened by his sudden angry outburst. "I'm sorry." She spoke, holding her face.

"Sit down." He growled, motioning to one of her kitchen chairs.

Garcia sat down, trying to calm herself as she was tied to the chair. She watched him with teary eyes, afraid of his violence. He moved away from her, she pulled at her bounds, no use. He smiled, admiring his work, and placed the picture of Reid on the table, facing her.

"Do you want to help him?"

"Yes." Her voice shook as she looked at the Polaroid.

"I'm going to call your uncle's phone, I want you to ask him to come over, tell him your brother's in trouble. Don't tell him what's happening." He motioned toward the photograph. "Mess this up and he dies, and so will you."

"O-okay."

The man took her cell phone and looked through the numbers, clicking on one and then pressing the phone to her ear. It rang twice.

"Hey baby girl." Came a warm, comforting voice.

Garcia's voice was shaking. "Morgan, can you come over?"

"What's wrong?" He asked, clearly concerned.

She looked at the photograph of Reid and tried to steady her voice. "My brother needs help. Please, just come over."

"I'm on my way." Morgan said, the line died.

"Don't hurt him." She pleaded as the phone was taken away from her ear.

"You did well, and as long as your uncle cooperates, your brother will be fine."


	3. Trapped in fear conquered by darkness

A/N: Has anyone else noticed that every member of the BAU has brown eyes??

**Disclaimer: **Criminal minds is not mine. **  
**

**3. Trapped in fear, conquered by the darkness**

Morgan drove with patience as he thought over the few things Garcia had said before hanging up. _Her brother_… He didn't even know she had a brother, let alone why she would call him for help. But he wasn't going to refuse. She meant too much to him to just leave her crying in her apartment.

But he could not shake the feeling that something else had been bothering her. Usually he could hear her computer in the background, the sound of her tapping the keys, or of some kind of corny theme music, but it had been dead silent. Her voice was shaking, she was trying to keep from crying, trying to refrain from saying something. The more he thought about it, the more he knew that something was very wrong.

.-.-.-.-

The man sat at the daughter's table, watching her do everything she could not to look at him with those, sad, angry eyes. She was afraid, but she would fight, he could tell. He had evoked a new anger in her, he was threatening her family. Her uncertainty about her brother kept her still, she did not know where he was, and she did not want to endanger his life.

The man turned his eyes from her and stared at the Polaroid, horrific and threatening. Any family would be pained at seeing their youngest like that, at knowing he was in the hands of a vengeful man. He snickered, watching the daughter shudder as he did so.

"Your uncle will be arriving soon, after he does, I will move your brother to a safer place. The two of you will remain here until he is moved, try and leave, and neither of you will see him again."

"Why are you doing this to us?" She asked quietly.

"I am a vengeful man, sweet child. It is a pity that innocents such as your brother and yourself have to suffer, but the easiest way to hurt a family is through its children."

"But why?" She asked, not understanding how a man who appeared to be so nice could be so cold.

"Vengeance." He answered simply, listening to the approaching steps. "Do not warn him, or I will hurt him."

"Please," She whispered as she watched the man move closer to her front door.

.-.-.-.-

Moran didn't like just how quiet it was outside of her apartment door. There was at least some kind of noise permeating from all of the others, but hers, nothing save for a distant sobbing. Something wasn't right. He placed his hand on his gun, ready to draw if needed.

"Garcia?" He knocked. "It's me, Morgan."

"The doors open." She called back, fear in her voice.

Cautiously, he turned the knob, it opened with the usual creak of a door being opened too slowly. "Where are you?" He asked casually as he walked in.

"I'm in the kitchen, Morgan I-"

.-.-.-.-

She stopped in mid sentence as she watched the man move behind Morgan, stalking after him. She wanted to warn him, surely Morgan could overpower him, force him to tell them what he had done with Reid.

"Morgan!" She cried out as the man pointed a gun at Morgan's head.

.-.-.-.-

He had gotten a glimpse of her before he had been hit, and that had put him on guard. He had been inches away from the kitchen doorway, then he had seen her, tied up, crying. Dammit! He knew something had been wrong!

The force of the gun slamming into the corner of his head had knocked him off balance, forcing him to drop his own gun as he was kicked in the shin. He turned angrily, because if this man had hurt her, he would be in so much pain when Morgan got done with him.

"Your niece and nephew are dangered by your fighting back." The man snickered.

Morgan's thoughts drifted to his family back home, and then back to the present. Who was this asshole? He lunged for the man, then fell to the floor limply as the tazer bit into his side.

"Morgan!" Garcia cried, the man hit her much harder then before.

"You tried to warn him." The man growled, then hit her.

"I-I thought you were going to kill him."

"Shut up." The man snapped, then bent over to pick Morgan's unconscious body off the floor and bound him to one of the other chairs facing the Polaroid. He headed toward the door.

"Where are you going?" She called, tearing her eyes away from Morgan.

"I need to move your brother, you had both better be here when I get back."

And then he was gone, out the door and heading toward his van, which had been in the parking lot all along.

.-.-.-.-

Reid continued pulling at his bounds, trying to break free. He did not know where he was, or where the man had gone, but his absence scared him more then his presence had. What was he doing with those photographs?

The eternal darkness from which he had been thrown into kept his heart racing. He tried to just keep his eyes closed, but he knew that the blindfolds night was still there, pressing against him, suffocating him. His cries for help had been meaningless, because no one would hear them. No one was going to look for him on a weekend that they all had off.

Reid went still when he heard the muffled footsteps, the jingling of keys as a van door was unlocked. He pulled at the handcuffs, he screamed against the restraints hoping that someone would hear him.

.-.-.-.-

The man smiled as the son fought against him, as he tried to call out. There was no one around, no one to hear those sweet cries. He touched the boys cheek, savoring the fear that seeped from his skin. He smiled, then slid the door shut and moved around to the drivers side and climbed in.

He drove with the music on, pointless lyrics of love and hate accompanied by torrents of beautiful sound. He thought of the victory he was claiming, having caught three of the intended seven. Insuring that the others would be just as easy. All families bend when their children are threatened, all of them break. He snickered, knowing that he would never have children, they were a weakness.

He pulled into the long driveway, staring with empty emotion at the house he so hated. The one place he was never able to escape. He stopped the van abruptly, causing it to jerk forward. The windows scowled at him as he looked into their cracked irises. He slammed his door shut, and jerked the side door open.

The boy fought against him as he unbound his ankles, terrified in the darkness. The man had never feared the dark, but this boy did, as so many children did. All except him, for he had embraced the darkness.

He growled as the boy kicked at him, hitting him in the chest hard enough to momentarily stun him. He whispered profanities then tangled his fingers in the boys hair, jerking him out of the van. He forced the boy to his feet, pressing the gun against his spine. "Go where you're directed, and I wont have to hurt you."

Reid walked cautiously over the gravel driveway, then up the creaking wood boards of the porch. The man was angry now, but he did not want to just go through with this. He listened as the man unlocked the door. He was pushed inside, and roughly lead down a staircase, into what he assumed must be a basement.

The room was empty, save for some boxes, a dresser, and an old bed. The man had no trouble forcing Reid into unconsciousness, laying him on the bed, and securing his wrists to the rusted metal bed frame.

He looked at the boy, so vulnerable, so innocent, and wandered if he had ever been that way. He had been a child, so surly, he must have been innocent, something his family had treasured. They had loved him, but treasured him? This boy was treasured, this boy would suffer.

He had lost his family, they were all in Hell, and soon, this family would join them.


	4. Disguised offering

**Disclaimer:** Shnot mine.

**4. Disguised offering**

Morgan felt the jolting pain in his side, but ignored it as he remembered what had caused it. He could hear Garcia's voice, sweet, worried. He turned toward it, realizing that he too, was bound. Dammit!

"Thank God your okay." She breathed.

"Not the word I'd use." He said as a subdued wave of pain crashed through him. "What happened?"

Morgan looked at her, seeing where she had been hit. That pissed him off. Then he followed her gaze to the picture on the table, and another wave of anger spread through him. The mark on Garcia's face from the basterd had been enough to kick Morgan into rage, to see what the creep had done to Reid, it flooded his rage meter. That was only a photograph, a photograph of his friend bound and helpless. There was no telling what the creep had done to him, if he was okay.

"He came up to me in the computer store and handed me that. He said that he would kill Reid if I didn't do what he said."

Morgan cursed inwardly, looking at Garcia's face and the picture again. This guy was going to pay. "What else did he say?" Morgan asked, trying to loosen the ropes that held him.

"He keeps calling Reid my brother, and he called you my uncle. He said he was doing this for vengeance, but he didn't say why."

_Your niece and nephew are dangered by your fighting back. _That's what he had meant.

"Where'd he go?"

"He said he needed t move Reid to a safer place. Morgan, what if he kills him?"

"He wont." Morgan assured her. "He's using Reid to scare us, to make us follow his orders. He needs Reid alive."

She turned toward Morgan. "I'm worried."

Morgan looked at the photograph, then at her. "Yeah, me too."

.-.-.-.-

Finally a night when she didn't have to dress for work, a night where she could settle into the chair in her living room, order a pizza and watch the game on TV. A night of relaxation, of down right alone time. Sure, hanging out with the girls was great, but right now, she wanted to sit in her living room and enjoy her time.

She sat in her recliner, stretched out over the arms in a pair of loose jeans and a roomy red t-shirt. Waiting through the endless onslaught of commercials. She was counting the minutes until the pizza delivery boy was supposed to arrive, he was usually there in fifteen minutes, always smiling like a schoolboy with his first crush. It was flattering. It had been twenty minutes, and her doorbell had not rang.

Another commercial eased by, more seconds ticked away, and still her pizza was not there. Then a blessed knock at the door, and she was pulling herself out of the chair and walking toward the door with her wallet in hand. The man outside her door was not the young, naïve teenager who normally delivered her pizza, and his uniform seemed a bit too small. She opened the door.

.-.-.-.-

The man smiled, that same smile that deceived so many. She was trusting, though he could see her examining gaze at the differences from her regular pizza boy. The important thing was that she trusted him, and that the children's aunt was allowing him access to her.

"Ahhh." He fell to his knees, the box toppled from his grasp.

"Are you all right?" JJ asked, kneeling beside him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

He cleared his throat, and reached into his pocket. "We all have our weaknesses."

"Sir-" Her breath stopped as he handed her a wrinkled Polaroid.

JJ didn't have time to act, as she stared at the picture, at her friend, bound and defenseless, the pizza man jumped her, knocking her into her house and slamming the door. She glared at him though the breath had been knocked out of her. She didn't know what was going on, but she was furious.

"What did you do to him?" She yelled.

The man backhanded her, throwing her against the wall. The world spun, a blurred water color painting. Her head pounded as she fought for balance. She made to yell, but was hit again, black starts danced across her open eyes, blocking out the light. And that beautiful smile became a twisted snarl.

"Every Aunt wishes for a child of her own, to protect, to love." He whispered, lifting her into his arms. She tried to fight back, but there was no strength within her, only a desire to save Spencer, to fight the creature that held her.


	5. Puzzle of a broken home

**Disclaimer:** Criminal minds isn't mine. nope, nope. But I do own a fascination with comparing things to puzzles!!**  
**

**5. Puzzle of a broken home**

A family was falling into darkness, because all families fail in the end. An elaborate puzzle, so unlike any that he had ever seen on display in a petty store rested before him. Its lines clearly defined, the pieces morphing until they no longer fit the way they were meant to.

Four members of a pieced together puzzle had been stolen from the cozy fit of their puzzle, were game pieces in obtaining the others. There was no such thing as a happy family, no reason why they should be happy when he had never been. HE had had a sister, but no mother. HIS two aunts had taught him to be a good boy, to be strong and dominating. HE had once had an uncle, who tried to protect him from his cruel father.

He was a dysfunctional puzzle in which none of the pieces fit, a puzzle that had been drained of color and stability. Now this family that mocked what he had thought he had, that had taken from him what had been precious would suffer until he felt that he was satisfied with their pain. His aunts had told him to make those who wronged him suffer, to get what was his, no matter the cost. But of course, he could never get what he truly wanted, his family, alive and in the house that he could never escape.

"_No one leaves this house, we're a family, and no one on the outside wants to help a dirty cluster of urchins." _The man's father had spoken those words so many times, had made them real like a preacher makes God tangible to believing fools.

The man pulled into his driveway, stopping to look at the bound woman in his van. He had not planned to bring her to the house yet, but the memories had drugged him, taken over his body and lead him here. So here he was, ahead of schedule, back at the house where he was a prisoner, and a master. A hunter of those who had hunted him.

He pulled the unconscious woman from the van, careful not to hurt her, for now. She was on sacred ground, safe until they were all reunited. He would pull the symbols of his family's puzzle back together, he would show them how he had suffered when he was a son of an urchin family. And he would fix his family, so that the pieces would fit, so that he could be a part of the puzzle, and they would all fit, they would be a puzzle without the lines to separate the pieces.

A tear in his eyes, he takes the woman , the aunt, into the house where she has been missed, to the room where she used to read him stories, and lays her onto the bed she used to sleep in. Hesitantly, he shackled her leg to the bolted down bed.

Soon, he would have his puzzle, soon, he would have a family, he would be a son again, but this time, he would not be hurt or mislead. The lines would disappear, the extra pieces discarded, but only after he had played with his prey, the way all hunters did. The way he had been taught.

**A/N:**I've noticed that the unsub kinda starts changing the way he thinks, and I don't know why. It doesn't work if I keep him on one train of thought though…..


	6. Inner flame to the maltreated

**Disclaimer: **Not claiming ownership, 'cept the things I dream and fantasize.

**6. An inner flame to the maltreated**

It had been hours since the man had left them, alone, bound and worried. Neither wanted to think of what he might be doing, how he might have hurt Reid, but they did. After all, they were human, they knew that humans could be cruel things without remorse or conscience. Their friend was in the hands of a man neither understood, but feared because of that lack of understanding. A man, who was walking through the front door once again, smiling as if a great deed had been done.

"Where is he?" Morgan demanded, pulling against his bounds.

"He is home. We'll all be there soon." He smiled, taking the Polaroid from the table, admiring it.

"If you hurt him, I swear-"

"My concern is how I'm going to move the two of you." He said, cutting Morgan off and pulling another Polaroid from his pocket, smiling as he showed it to them.

It was JJ, unconscious, a bruise on her forehead and a shackle around her ankle. The man smiled at Garcia. "I have taken your aunt and your brother back to our home. I need both of you to come back." He winked at Morgan. "I doubt you remember our home, so if you don't come willingly, you'll never find them. They will slowly starve, they will cry alone and die as their bodies are racked with pain, swollen from hunger, eaten by fear and isolation."

The threat was tangible, and the meaning clear. There was no way to fight this man, he was deranged, and he was determined.

"Take us home." Morgan said quietly, hoping that he was making the right choice, that they would be able to help the others if they were wherever this man wanted them. He knew that he was weak at the moment, both from the tazer wound and the lives that depended on their choice.

The man smiled and nodded. "I knew that you'd understand. A cluster of dirty urchins belongs in their home, away from the world."

The man cuffed Morgan's wrists before he untied him, cautious in everything that he did. He was no fool, the uncle cooperated not out of remembrance, not yet, but out of fear for his family. He pressed the gun against his back, placing his hand on Morgan's shoulder. "I'll bring your niece down after you are secured. Remember, to fight will only hurt her."

Morgan nodded, turning and offering Garcia a reassuring smile. Everything would be okay, he would protect her, he would do his best to save them all. All the while waiting for the others to realize what was going on.

The man lead Morgan down the stairs, watching for anyone to exit their apartments and question what he was doing. But no one emerged from their safe little homes, none detected what was happening and came to interfere. He lead Morgan to the van, forced him inside, and then hit him across the head with Reid's gun, sending him into a temporary darkness from which he would find the home he had lost.

Garcia was tapping her feet as she waited, imagining the sound of fingers on a keyboard. Trying to imagine anything but what was happening. But worry was a persistent mistress, always asking and expecting more. No matter what she tried to see behind closed eyes, there was always that image of Reid, and now JJ. Then the shifting waves of worry for Morgan, who was hurt and out of her sight. He was tough, and he could take care of himself, she knew. But he was crippled with an injury and the worry for his friends that she shared.

She continued to wait, tapping and trying to imagine, until the man returned, alone, smiling. She could only glare, despite how helpless she was, regardless of the burden of her worry. She refused to go through with his every order without putting up some sort of fight. She needed to look out for her friends, to be the fight inside of Morgan while he was recovering.

"Your turn." He smiled, gesturing toward her with the hand that held the gun. A silent threat.

She waited as he snapped the cuffs around her wrists, then untied her. One weight lifted and another set in. She was calm as he helped her to her feet, a gentleman, a monster. She was confused, she was scared, she was ready to fight. There was no want to endanger those she loved, but she could not sit by and watch as they were hurt, she knew that Morgan wouldn't if he weren't injured.

But she lacked his strength, his skill. And she feared him, his outbursts of anger, the danger that he was to them all. She felt defeated, even though she had not begun to fight. She held her head low, and obliged to his will. She could not risk Morgan being hurt anymore. Even if she could fight the man enough to help Morgan, they may never find JJ and Reid. Could she really allow herself to be the reason they were never found? The reason they slowly died alone.

She let the man lead her through her apartment building, down the stairs and across the parking lot until they reached his van. He slid open the door, and there was Morgan, unconscious.

"You basterd." She spat at his feet.

"Get in, sweet sister. We must be getting home." He laughed.

He helped her in, then slammed the door. He was not afraid of her retaliating, for he knew that he was stronger, that he was in control. She was a good sister, a good niece, and she did not want her family getting hurt. Paula had always been sweet, caring no matter the circumstance. But there had been times when she had hurt him, when she had been a monster. They had all been monsters. Even the youngest son, who had been robbed of innocence, who had stolen life. He had been robbed.

He drove, listening to the sister's sweet words as she talked to the unconscious uncle, sweet, soothing words. He remembered such words.

They arrived at the house, old and worn down as it was. Isolated from the dirty world. Home. Sweet refuge from the dark.

.-.-.-.-

A/N: I promise, this fic will get better!


	7. Home is where their hearts beat

**Disclaimer: **sighs Not mine, yet.. (sinister laughter)

**7. Home is where their hearts are**

The man smiled when he looked onto his private prison, but no, it was no longer private. His family was coming home. The thought sent confused waves through his mind. This was supposed to be his vengeance, taking them, breaking them; however, he found that his piece of their puzzle was beginning to shift, to re-shape itself. Maybe, this family which seemed so much like the one he had lost, was, Infact, the one he had lost.

His family, reborn, so to speak, and he was bringing them home. Could it truly be? Were they his, had they really come back? It was impossible, it was insane. It was real.

He climbed out from his van, and slid the side door open with an extra bounce in his step. They were his! Not just to hurt, not to kill, but to have! An unholy gift of highest value.

He looked into the open door, smiling at _his_ sister who cradled_their_ uncle's head in her lap. She was scared, but beneath her fear was fight, so like he remembered.

"Come on Paula, we're home."

Garcia had noticed the change in his tone, less angry, more, what? Joyous? Entranced? She carefully moved away from Morgan, placing his head down softly and allowing the man to help her out of the van. She looked at the house, dark, dying thing that it was. Reid and JJ were in that house, trapped, just like she and Morgan were going to be.

The man pressed his gun against the back of her neck, his free hand tight on her shoulder. "I'll take you to the living room, you used to like to sit there."

Up the old stairs, through the house to the dusty old living room they marched. Unraveling rugs lay scattered across the living room, under coffee tables and couches. The couch in the middle of the room was old, heavy, with a length of chain bolted to one of its thick legs.

The man motioned toward the couch. "Sit."

She sat, a cloud of dust rose and fell. She coughed.

The man held the gun on her, taking the clasp at the end of the chain and fastened it tightly around her ankle. He then moved around her, to remove the handcuffs. "Trust me, it's secure."

She looked up at him. "What are you going to do to Morgan?" She asked quietly. The man stared at her, considering. He should not leave his sister alone, not when she hadn't been home in so long. "I'll bring uncle to the living room, you have been gone so long…"

The man smiled and then left the room. Garcia pulled at the restraint, but it was tight, secure. She looked around the room, cobwebs and footprints in the dust were the only signs of life.

Footsteps. The man was returning. She turned around, anxious. He was carrying a still unconscious Morgan, talking to himself, as if she weren't fastened to the couch. In the corner, attached to the floor was another length of chain. _Dear God, who were these people? _The man lowered Morgan to the floor and attached his leg to the other length of chain.

"Soon, we'll all be together again." He said, unsure if he really believed it.

He left the room, walking toward the kitchen, then opening the little door near the back. It opened with a moaning creek, the basement stairs like dull, sloping teeth. He went down to his bedroom, the only son's room. The boy was waking, pulling against his bounds, afraid.

He smiled, a low chuckle in his throat. The man grabbed a glass of water with a straw in it, and approached the son, loving the way he squirmed at the sounds of his steps. He removed the cloth from his mouth. "Drink." He said, putting the straw beneath the boys lips. He drank.

After the boy drank, the man replaced the cloth and stared at him. He ran cold fingers over the boys face, feeling him tense and shiver. He laughed softly, then walked away, toward the corner of the room. The boy tried to call out, but the man was in no mood, he was confused, curious.

The man moved across the room, to a cabinet on the wall. The jade green pain was chipping, leaving the cabinet his mother had made an ugly thing. He opened the wooden doors, they did not creek. Inside, were six open jars, within each, a dusty, molding heart. Yes, he had kept their hearts, had kept them in the room where they had kept him. His family. He looked at them, and saw that the hearts were beating! The pulse of the maggots feeding on the remains. But he saw beyond the maggots, through them. To him, those hearts were beating on their own.

This could no longer be a quest for vengeance, these people were his family, back from beyond the grave. They were back, he needed to collect them, make them remember. He smiled, and it was a twisted, ugly thing. Death himself could not have smiled a more chilling grin. They would be together again, after all, a cluster of dirty urchins belonged together in their home, away from the world.


	8. Trapped within a reverie

**Disclaimer:**I do not own Criminal minds, nor do I own the passage from New Moon, that belongs to Stephanie Meyer.

**8. Trapped within a reverie**

The man was driving, he needed to collect the rest of his family, to bring them home. He had Polaroid's of the four he had taken, and they would attract the others. They did not remember yet, they would come for fear of the false family, then he would make them remember. He drove, the music a faint sound in his ears, and he thought of the family he had believed gone forever.

.-.-.-.-

_The boy smiled, watching from the door as his aunt brushed her waist length golden hair. He did not understand why, but it took his breath away to see her arms extend, then retract to run the brush through her silky hair. His stomach fluttered, and he continued to stare. _

_She caught sight of him in the reflection of her mirror, she smiled, and that smile always stirred him on the inside. _

"_Lucas, come on in." That same, sun filled smile. _

_The boy entered the room, trying to hide the excitement stirring within. "Aunt Jan?" _

"_Anything." She smiled, a flash of white teeth, three in the back missing. _

"_Read to me?" He asked, taking a seat on her bed. _

"_I love it when you ask." She laughed, the sweet sound of church bells. _

_His father had always told him that church was an evil place, where urchins were thrown into the fiery pits of Hell. Eternal torture, eternal pain. He loved the sound of those bells, but would never set foot into a church. Never. _

_Read me something. He silently begged. Anything to hear her voice, to be able to watch her breath. And she smiled again, picking up a book she had just recently purchased from her nightstand. The cover caught his eye, some kind of white flower, covered in blood. She sat next to him, and began to read. _

"I felt like I was trapped in one of those terrifying nightmares, the one where you have to run, run till your lungs burst, but you can't make your body move fast enough. My legs seemed to move slower and slower as I fought my way through the callous crowd, but the hands on the huge clock tower didn't slow. With restless, uncaring force, they turned inexorably toward the end-the end of everything."

_She turned toward him, a tempting smile on her face. "What do you think?" _

_The boy felt the pull of that temptation, he could feel his body responding to it. "There's something about it…" He trailed off, acknowledging his sudden need for privacy. _

"_Something wrong, Lucas?" She chuckled. _

_He stood, and stumbled out of the room, ignoring his aunt's confused calls. He ran toward the bathroom, eager to take care of his , problem, but he never made it there. His father was walking through the hall, his older sister crying. He walked by his father slowly, afraid, expectant, excited, and curious. _

_To his amazement, his father said nothing, didn't even look at him. He nodded in his father's direction, always respect a parent, and then slipped into his sister's room. _

_Paula was beautiful, tall for a thirteen year old girl, her body mature. He found that her eyes were the most captivating of her features, expressive, kind. But now there were tears in her eyes, and a thick jealousy as she watched her little brother enter the room. _

"_Go away Lucas." She snapped, turning away. _

"_Paula?" He stared at her, she was never cruel. : Did daddy hurt you?" He asked. Whenever he misbehaved, his father beat him with a thick leather belt, often leaving bruises and welts over him. His father did that to anyone who misbehaved. _

"_No Lucas." Her voice softened, and she looked at him, pain in her eyes. Such pain. "He doesn't love me." She whispered. _

"_Daddy loves us all." He said, so sure of his words. _

"_Not like he loves you." She accused. "I want daddy to love me as much as he loves you."_

_He watched the anger cross her face, and then the sadness. Daddy's special love was attention, it was love. It was pain. But daddy was selective about his special love, he used to love the uncle, daddy's brother, and then he loved mommy. But mommy was dead, and daddy said he didn't like her like he loved uncle. And he loved Lucas. _

_He did not know what to say, he had not known that Paula could feel jealousy, she was too kind. "I'll ask daddy." He said, with the pure determination of an eleven year old boy. "If it'll make you like me again, I'll ask him." _

"_Oh Lucas," She said, ruffling his hair. "I could never hate you." _

_He smiled and ran from the room, looking for his father. He ran through the house, his steps quiet, his mind set. He peeked into Aunty Emily's sewing room; she was halfway through his new green sweater._

"_Aunty, where did daddy go?" _

_She looked up, her eyes tired. They were always tired, fearful. "Downstairs Lucas." She sighed. "Remember not to let yourself get bullied. Your father will understand if you want to breathe sometimes." _

"_Thank you, Aunty Emily." He called, and then ran down the stairs two at a time. _

_He found his father, he was just walking outside. He smiled, and then followed, catching the door just as it was about to close. But his father didn't seem to notice, but often, he was lost to them, in a world only he knew. The young boy followed, out into the yard, to the stump of a two hundred year old tree, in its rings, an ax. _

"_Daddy?" Lucas called, smiling as the rain caressed his body. _

"_Lucas." His father smiled, his eyes narrowing. _

"_Daddy, can you love Paula too, like you love me and uncle Don? Like you loved mommy, before she died." _

_The anger was unpredictable, his father hit him, bare handed and merciless. The boy fell into the mud, his head spinning, blood in his mouth. "Daddy?"_

"_Don't you ever talk to me like that." His father said, empty emotion in his voice. "Those issues aren't for you, never for you."_

"_But daddy," _

_This time his father kicked him. His steel toed boots met the boy's stomach, taking away his breath. While the boy coughed, while no tears fell from his young eyes, his father kneeled, and removed the boys shirt. Dark bruises were forming. _

"_Daddy, no." He said, not wanting Paula to be mad at him. _

"_What did you say?" His father growled, slapping him. _

"_I said no! I don't want Paula to be mad, she wants to be loved too!"_

_The boy's father laughed, a twisted, cold sound. _

_The boy scooted backward, seeing an evil in his father's eyes that had never been there before. He pulled himself up with the stump, and wrapped his fingers around the ax. _

.-.-.-.-

The man blinked, pushing away the memory, so much like a thorned daydream. Fourteen years had passed since that night, the rain was always falling, and their hearts were beating.

He pulled up outside Aunty Emily's home, watching her lock her door. Another thought permeated his mind as he watched her turn the key. A dark, unpredictable thought. His brow creased, and he pulled out the Polaroid of the son into his clenched fist, wondering. He grabbed the wet cloth with his free hand, then stepped out of the van. His mind now empty of whatever he had been trying to consider. He looked at the Aunt, theirs? His? He stalked forward.

.-.-.-.-

A/N: This fic is before Prentis joins the BAU, the aunts name is Emily, but it isnt Prentis!


	9. Weaving the web

Yay! Twas my birthday, and I've provided another chapter!!!

Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal minds, no matter how much I wish I did...

**9. Weaving the web**

Lucas eased out from his van, walking down the sidewalk as casually as if he lived on that street. He had no reason to seem suspicious, no reason to seem odd. He was a man taking an evening stroll, out to reclaim the family that had been taken from him. Or had it been for vengeance that he had started this? He was having a difficult time differentiating.

Aunty was walking away from her house, soon, she would be home. Her strode up to her as if she were anyone, as if he were merely a curious neighbor. He smiled. He would not bother with the Polaroid just yet, for, if she truly were his Aunty Emily, he would not have to use the picture of the son to paralyze her. She had always been easily overcome.

He was a few paces behind her, keeping a distance, not seeming to notice her. Not the least bit suspicious, not attention grabbing, save for a handsome face. But it was dark, and there were none around to admire, to gaze into his hunters eyes and become trapped.

He was every bit as quick as the swiftest predator, behind the aunt, the chloroform soaked cloth over her face within seconds, her body trapped in his strong arms. She fought against him, thrusting, screaming. But no one heard, no one saw. Her head slammed into his jaw, his lip began to bleed, and she soon fell into darkness.

Lucas smiled, a crazed laugh escaping his throat. It was all too easy. They were falling into this trap like flies to a spider's glistening web. He picked her up into his arms, holding her, remembering. He licked the blood that oozed from his split lip, tasting the drops that fell onto her face. Sweet.

He laughed again then took her to the van, carefully placing her in the van, then binding her. He was cautious. All spiders bound their prey, kept them home. Yes, home. The house was calling, there were so many there to attend to. His family.

.-.-.-.-

Morgan woke slowly, coughing as he inhaled the dust. His side still hurt, and he had a massive headache, but other then that, he was fine. Except for the shackle on his ankle.

"Derek?"

He looked up toward Garcia, and tried a smile. She was obviously scared. "Hey baby girl."

"How are you feeling?" She asked, trying to get close to him, but the chain's length was too short.

"All right." He lied. "where are we?"

"I think this is where he lives." She said gloomily.

"Have you seen Reid or JJ?"

"No," Garcia shook her head.

.-.-.-.-

She stirred from sleep, feeling that something was wrong before opening her eyes. This bed didn't feel right, the smell of dust and mold was too strong. Her head hurt.

"_We all have our weaknesses." _

Spencer! Her eyes shot open, she pulled herself up into a sitting position, looking around the room. It was old, the bookcase was overfilled with books, new and old. There was dust everywhere. A glass of water and some aspirin had been left on the nightstand, along with the wrinkled Polaroid.

"Spencer…" She whispered softly.

Was he somewhere in this house, chained, alone? Why were they here was a better question. This guy had to have some kind of reason for bringing them here, separating them, and remaining out of sight.

She closed her eyes, remembering his. Anger beat with her pulse, fear steadied her breathing. In the silence that followed she heard voices, familiar voices.

.-.-.-.-

"They gotta be somewhere in this house." Morgan said, looking around the dusty old living room.

"Morgan?" A voice deeper in the house called.

"JJ!" Garcia exclaimed, excited to know that she sounded okay.

"Garcia?" JJ called back.

"We're both in the living room," Morgan called. "Where are you?"

"Shackled in a bedroom." She called back, unnerved.

"JJ, have you seen Reid?" Morgan called, hoping that maybe they were together.

"No, but the creep left a picture." Her voice was strained.

"Dammit!" Morgan cursed. "He's gotta be here somewhere…"

.-.-.-.-

He couldn't see anything, all was dark. He couldn't move, could hardly breath. The darkness was swallowing him. Fear crept up his spine as he felt the legs of small insect crawl over his flesh. He squirmed, trying to pull free, but there was no hope, he couldn't get free.

He didn't know why he was tied down to this bed, or where exactly he was. He didn't understand what was happening. And the fear became so much stronger. Tears burned in his eyes as he thought of all the things this man could have planned for him, of all the things he had never said to any of his friends.

Did they know he was gone? Were they looking for him? Probably not. At the most, it was only Sunday, and unless a case had come up, no one was going to notice that he was gone.

He stifled off a sob, not wanting to seem any more vulnerable. Pulled at the ropes that held his wrists until he felt them bleed. Trying to move the blindfold from his eyes, the gag from his mouth. _Dammit!_How had he let this happen? Why hadn't he fought harder?

He heard their voices from above, and his body froze. He must be delusional, how could it be that they were here, had they found him all ready? What was going on?

"_We're both in the living room." _Morgan…

"_Shackled in a bedroom." _JJ…

So they were prisoners here too. Maybe this was his fault… Maybe that creep had used those pictures to lure in his friends, to trap them. This was all his fault. He was trapped, they were trapped. His weakness had woven the web that this man was using to ensnare his friends.

They were asking about him, so, they didn't know where he was. Reid pulled against the ropes, and tried desperately to call to them, to let him know that he was here. But his cries were muffled, too silent to pass through the door, to reach their ears.


	10. Conspiracy

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal minds.

**10. Conspiracy **

"He's gotta be here somewhere…" Morgan said, loudly enough for JJ to hear.

…

JJ stared at the picture, feeling the bruise on her head. "Are you two shackled too?" She called, confuse meant in her words.

…

"Yeah, a cuff around one of our legs." Garcia called back. "Why?"

…

JJ picked up the photograph, closing her eyes. "Have you guys seen this picture of Reid?

…

"Yeah," Morgan scoffed, hating the image that burned behind his eyes.

…

"This guy only chained our legs, but he's got Reid completely bound." JJ pushed the picture away. Another thought hit her. "When he abducted me, he said something strange, he said _Every Aunt wishes for a child of her own, to love and protect_."

…

"He called Reid my brother, and Morgan my uncle. He said that the easiest way to hurt a family was through its children." Garcia added.

"He's comparing us to some kind of family," Morgan said. "He's taken our youngest to hurt us, to make us oblige to whatever he wants. He's made Reid appear vulnerable, he wants us scared."

"He said he wanted vengeance, but then…" Garcia trailed off.

"What happened?" Morgan asked.

"When we got here, while you were still unconscious, he started acting differently. Happier. He called me Paula, said we were home. He brought me into the living room, and said I'd always liked to sit here."

…

"Maybe he's comparing us to his family." JJ mused. "Something happened to his family, and he's taking it out on us."

…

"We gotta get in this guys head, work his fantasy until he trusts us." Morgan said, looking around the room. "Analyze the rooms, see what these people were like, be these people."

…

"This room is tidy, lots of books, it was a girl's room." JJ said as she looked around the room.

…

"It must have been one of his aunts rooms." Garcia said, looking over the plain living room.

"He called Garcia Paula, we're going to have to start using that name, making this guy feel like we know what he's talking about. Tricking him into telling us about this family, so we can become them."

.-.-.-.-

Aunty was waking while Lucas carried her into the house, a confused stirring. Soon, she would begin to fight him, she would be afraid, angry. It would be good for her to wake up home, to be in her old sewing room. It would help her to remember.

She was dazed, blinking away the blurs in her vision. She felt herself placed into a creaky rocking chair, felt the cool ring encase her ankle. She heard the lock click, and her body tensed. Something wasn't right, she needed to pull out of this darkness.

Something was slid into her hand, her gingers were wrapped around the edges. There was a low chuckle, followed by a bright flash and the sound of film winding. And then the room became empty. The paper was thick, its surface slick in the middle, somewhat rough around the edges. Her vision cleared, she shook her head, and sat up straight in the chair.

She looked around the room, dusty and old, filled with sewing supplies, a small dresser, wardrobe, and a twin sized bed with a half finished green sweater on it. The shackle around her ankle was bolted to the leg of the bed. She turned her gaze to the photograph that had been placed in her hand, and for a moment, her body paused. Someone had taken Reid, probably whoever had taken her, and trussed him up like a calf in a rodeo show.

"What the hell is going on?" Elle asked the darkness that slowly crept into the window.

.-.-.-.-

Morgan and Garcia watched as the man came down the stairs, a distant look in his eyes. They had seen him carry Elle up the stairs, barely conscious, and they were angry. How many of them was he going after? How many would he get?

Garcia was the first to speak to him, quiet, cautious. "You haven't told us your name, I-I cant remember it."

The man looked at her, confused. "Lucas." A faint smile. "You should remember that, sister."

She smiled back. "We don't remember, Lucas. Our names, this house, its all lost to us."

"I'm sorry about that," He sighed. "It's probably because I shattered you, but you'll remember."

He smiled at Morgan. "Uncle Dan, I'm glad you've calmed down. It would have done the boy no good to have you angry."

"Where is he, Lucas." Morgan asked, remaining calm, despite his want to hurt this man.

"He's in our room…" Lucas said distantly, then turned toward the kitchen, out of view.

.-.-.-.-

Lucas walked through the kitchen, toward the cellar door. He descended down those stairs, into his bedroom, and stared at the figure bound to his bed. Who was this boy really? He was of _their _family, that was why they were all worried, why they cared, but, was he part of _his_ family?

All of the others had been reborn in these people because they had died, but he had not died, he had survived. So how could he have been reborn? Was this boy supposed to be him, though he had lived? Or was he just a distraction?

Lucas gripped his hair in confused frustration. This had all started as his vengeance for their happiness at his misfortune. He had watched them as a family, smiling happy people. The life he had never had lived in them, and they should have suffered for it. But they were so much like his own, they were his! Those hearts were beating after years of death, the house knew who these people were, Lucas knew!

And yet, this one boy baffled him, made him rethink his decision in all of this. Did he want to hurt their family, or repair his own? Lucas was not dead, he could not have been reborn. And there was the extra to consider, the one man who did not fit, who could not possibly be part of his family. That one all ready had two families, the one he shared with Lucas', and the one he had with his wife and son. He could not be left free, but he was not truly of Lucas' blood.

Too many unanswered questions, and no time to debate. It was Sunday night, and there were two more to bring back. He could make his decisions when he had them all here, when all was safe.

He sat on the bed next to the boy, leaning close enough to feel his breath bounce off of his skin. It made him smile to watch the boy try to remain calm, to hear his quiet whimpers.

"I will bring them all here, using you. I don't understand what role you are to play, where you fit in this if I am not to take my revenge, but, your have been rather useful, as you will continue to be." Lucas chuckled, stroking the boys face.


	11. final abstractions

A/N: I'm sorry this is taking so long, Life has become pretty busy, and Im not getting much computer time at all. Im also having idea shortages, which is rare for me.

**11. The final abstractions **

These would be the hardest, the most enjoyable to entrap. They were the families parents, the ones who took care of them, who would fight hardest to rescue them. They were hunters as well as he, and they would be hurt, enraged to see what he had done to their loved ones.

It was Sunday evening, Jason Gideon would be in his apartment, alone, unprepared. Lucas now had Polaroid's of five of his friends, his family. Would he risk never finding them? No, he would come, he would cooperate, because Lucas would never tell where his family hid, he would never speak of his own identity as to allow any kind of clue. It was all a matter of how he went about this. Taking the father, ad then dealing with the other.

He walked calmly up the stairs of Gideon's apartment building, smiling at those who noticed him. He was pleasant, charming, the perfect predator.

He felt around in his pocket for the small baggy containing the ground up sleep pills, all of it was still there, intact, humming a song of victory. He preceded toward the apartment door, thinking about the families this man had had, trying to see the father in him.

Was he truly the father Lucas remembered, cruel, but kind? Something to be feared, to love, to obey. That was the father Lucas had loved, but this man, he was kind, always kind. Would he be able to remember how cruel and dominating he truly was?

Outside the door, Lucas could feel the anxiety, the pulse of energy that radiated from memories of lost days. Soon, this puzzle would have all the necessary pieces, and all that would be left to do would be to put them back where they belonged.

He knocked five times, only meaning to knock three, but distracted by his thoughts. No, he could not afford distraction, not with this one. He was so very close. Lucas closed his eyes as his mouth twitched into a coy grin. It was all going so well.

.-.-.-.-

Gideon sat down his book when he heard the rapping at his door. He wasn't expecting anybody, usually, if Reid or Hotch came by, they called. There were few others who ever came, especially by surprise.

He shook his head and walked toward the door, it was quiet on the other side, as if there were no one. Strange. He opened the door, to see a relatively young man, ordinary, with a glimmer of achievement in his cool eyes. Well dressed, groomed, professional.

"Can I help you?"

.-.-.-.-

Lucas stared up at the widely known Jason Gideon, his smiled deepening. This man's eyes were dark, calm, absent of his feelings. This man very well could be his father.

"I was looking for you, Mr. Gideon." He said with an earnest voice. "May I come inside?"

"Why are you looking for me?"

"I have news regarding your family."

Gideon stared at the young man, not knowing exactly what he felt. His family… What did this boy know about any of that. Something wasn't right. "My family?"

"Yes sir, " Lucas replied, mock confusion on his face. "A man asked me to deliver a message to you."

Gideon looked into the hall, seeing no one, then invited the young man in.

Lucas followed Gideon to his living room, then took a seat on the couch. He was playing this well. Gideon had excused himself into the kitchen, coming back with two glasses of water. Lucas smiled warily, playing the part of confused messenger boy.

"I'm sorry sir," He began.

"This isn't your fault," Gideon sat the glasses down. "Now, tell me what the man looked like."

Lucas took a calming breath, then looked at the man with care. "He was tall, long dark brown hair, grayish eyes, medium build. He just came up to me, real friendly, but threatened to kill me if I didn't do this, said he'd be watching." A convincing story. Lucas drank the entire glass of water, shaking his hands lightly. "Could I please have some more?"

Gideon nodded, then walked toward the kitchen. Lucas poured the ground up pills into Gideon's glass, stirring it quickly, mixing the powder perfectly into the water. He finished just before Gideon returned, carrying his glass and a face heavy with worry. He sat down, handed Lucas his glass, and then took a small drink from his own.

Lucas hid his smile and sipped at his own drink.

"What else did he say?" Gideon asked, suddenly looking a bit tired.

"I was told to give you these," Lucas said, pulling five Polaroid's out of his coat pocket. He handed them to Gideon shyly, then smiled as horror filled the old profilers eyes.

.-.-.-.-

He stared at the frozen images of Reid, JJ, Garcia, Morgan, and Elle, all of them prisoners, all of them gone. How had this happened? How had anyone managed to take them all without none being alerted? Immediately, he tried to profile, to see. Every member was bound by a chain cuffed around one ankle, except for Reid, that sight alone broke his heart. The team was like a family of sorts to him, but Reid, he was almost like a son to him, and whoever had done this surely must have known. This was cruel, planned out, and-

Suddenly, he was tired, having trouble thinking clearly. He cursed himself and looked to the man smiling at him, a trickster…

"I am sorry, Mr. Gideon, but we are on a bit of a tight schedule, we have a reunion to attend." He helped Gideon to his feet, stuffing the Polaroid's back into his coat. "Now, come with me, quietly, and you'll see them alive again."

Everything was fuzzy, his thoughts were blurred. He had no choice, he had to find them, had to keep this man from hurting them. He followed the man through the apartment building, feeling dizzy, tired, how far would they have to go? His team, his, family, were trapped. Each of them flashed before his eyes, all but Garcia unconscious, all but Reid bound, yet free. Why?

"Why-" He tried to ask, but the effort was too much. He was getting too dizzy, everything was wrong.

Lucas helped him into the van, or rather, pulled him in. He had used too much of the powder. He bound the man's arms, and stared long into his sleeping face. "Just one more, and our reunion will be ready."

Flash.

.-.-.-.-

Lucas had never known his mother. Her smile, her kindness, he had never born witness to any of it. She had died to give him life, she had perished into Hell for him. And, as far as any of them could tell, had been the only woman his father had ever loved, the first, the last.

If this were truly Lucas' family, if they were coming back together, somewhere in the equation,. Would have to be his mother, it only made sense. But the structure of the family he was abducting did not fit his own family in that sense, there was no mother, at least, not on the surface.

He could leave no loose ends to decipher what had happened, to figure it all out, even though he had left little to no evidence anywhere. But these people were not fools, he would be discovered. So he thought as he drove, of the family he remembered, of the mother he had never known.

His revelation was unorthodox, but, in his mind, it made perfect sense. A mother was kind, strict in wanting to protect, she was good at tacking care of her family. Gideon was close to these things, he was a fine father. But, Aaron Hotchner was his mother's reincarnation!

His laughter was hysterical, his thoughts were ludicrous. It seemed so very farfetched. Yet, at the same time, it seemed perfectly plausible. That was the role he was meant to play, the way the family was completed. His family had consisted of seven before his mother's death, this family consisted of seven. It only made sense, that once again, he would be with them all, he would meet his mother.

He pulled up outside of Hotchner's house, wandering, planning. He could make this easy, so to return home sooner, that would be the best route. He didn't have much time, he wanted to get home.

He watched his father as he waited, breathing slowly, unconscious. It was hard, not knowing anymore. He had been so ready for vengeance, but, how could he take vengeance if this was his family?

Lucas cursed under his breath, then took Gideon's cell phone into his hands. He wanted this over quickly, so that he could think, so that he could understand. He found Aaron Hotchner's number, then preceded to send him a text message. Aaron would be too smart to be fooled with a crappy voice imitation, he would be alert. This was the best he could do without getting inside, the easiest way.

_Aaron, I'm outside. _

It was simple, if not pathetic, but hopefully, it would work.

.-.-.-.-

Hotch looked at his phone, confused. Why had Jason called from outside the house, better yet, why had he sent a text message? He peered outside, nothing in front of the house, down the way a bit was a strange van, but he did not see Gideon's car.

Cautiously, he opened the front door, finding a manila envelope on the step. Suspicious. He kept his eyes up as he bent down and picked up the folder, carefully opening it and emptying the contents into his hands. He looked into the pictures, becoming momentarily trapped. He dropped the envelope, clutching the Polaroids, crushing them as a hand wrapped itself across his face, chloroform permeating his nose.

Hotch fought wildly, elbowing his attacker in the stomach, temporarily breaking free, too dizzy to much else. The man snarled, punching Hotch in the gut, knocking the air out of him, watching as he fell into darkness.


	12. Journals

Disclaimer: Not mine, but, maybe for christmas... ;)

**12. Journals **

JJ looked around the room, trying to find anything that would tell her who this woman had been, how to play her part. She had been speaking with Elle, Morgan, and Garcia. The house wasn't offering many answers, just bare clues to who they had been.

The chains length didn't allow for her to move far around the room, she had to stretch to her body's extent to reach the bookshelf, which was a clutter of old and new books, most of which seemed to be romance and mysteries.

There was one book; however, that stood out among the rest, there was no title or Author on its binding, just a plain, blue book. She pulled it off the shelf, causing a few others to tumble to the floor. On the cover, handwritten with an ink pen, was a name. Jeannette Urchin. "This must be her journal…" JJ whispered to herself, opening the old diary.

"I found something!" She yelled, so that everyone would hear her.

.-.-.-.-

Morgan and Garcia turned their faces upward, hoping that it was something that would help. "What is it?" Morgan called back.

.-.-.-.-

"A diary. Her name must have been Jeanette," She flipped through a few more pages. "There aren't really dates on the pages, but…" She trailed off, looking at the last four. "These last four are interesting."

.-.-.-.-

Elle hadn't found much in the sewing room, just the things that one would expect to find there. She turned toward the door, JJ was across the hall. "What does it say?"

.-.-.-.-

JJ cleared her throat, then began to read.

_Entry 283_

_Harold is angry again, but, what can we do? The world will never accept dirty creatures such as ourselves, despair is all that awaits outside these doors. Ever since Anna's death, he has refused the touch of a woman, my dear brother, he suffers so. It becomes more evident the more I watch him, easing his advances on Dan, and depending more on Lucas. Lucas is too young for this much affection, I don't believe Harold is aware of his son's pain and devotion. Lucas would never dare turn away from his father, but he is young, and his father's special love hurts nonetheless. _

_I would gladly lay with both of them, to feel arms around me, to be loved again. Our father had let us into the outside world, to feel the love of others, but now that Harold is head of the home, we have only each other. _

_Entry 284_

_The baby is gone. Emily had been so glad before, when she had learned that she was pregnant. We had tried to think of so many ways to explain its coming, but, we knew Harold would never allow the child. So now, it is destroyed. And I fear, Emily will give in to the death this house seems to hold. That child was her light, her knowledge that some on the outside were kind, capable of love. I think she truly meant to run off with him, if she could break free. But Harold saw the signs of pregnancy on her, and he would have surly punished her dearly. So we destroyed the child, and Emily's world has shattered. Still, she tries to care for Lucas like his mother would have, she wants him to fight his father away. _

_Paula, poor dear, she craves that attention that Harold only gives to Dan and Lucas. She does not know what she asks. She doesn't connect with any of us, rebellious to the bone. If Harold would only give her a taste of what she asks for, I think, it would calm her down. _

_I cant continue to worry for all of them now, not when my own heart craves for the love it is deprived of. I know it is wrong to try and seduce young Lucas, but, Dan is still so unsure. He fears what our brother will do if he finds that Dan is in love with a woman, if he finds that I may be pregnant. We can not hide forever, we may have to escape into the world, and risk the tortures of Hell herself. _

_Entry 285_

_It truly is a nightmare isn't it? This life, trapped in this wicked house, living these sins. Who are we? I tried for Lucas tonight, I wanted him, the way Harold craves for he and Dan. I truly am wicked. And Emily, she sits there, sewing, grieving silently for the child, sewing that sweater for Lucas, as she has been for months, I wander, if it will ever be done. She thinks of the child, and her hands stop moving, she has escaped this house, and for that, I envy her. She is gone, lost within those thoughts. _

_Lucas has run after his father, he will be beaten for his disobedience. Harold will not take Paula, I fear, she will run away. Dan and I will leave tomorrow, he needs this more then I do, to be away from Harold. We can not take Lucas, or Paula, and Emily has already made her escape. We will leave this place, we will risk our souls, we will be captives of the world. _

_I heard Lucas scream, Harold is probably having his way with him, teaching him. Is it wrong that Lucas enjoys his father's love? I cant be sure, I don't feel sure of anything tonight…_

_Was that Dan yelling, What's going on…_

And there was no more writing, the rest was blank. "Whatever had happened to these people, must have happened then. While she was writing this," JJ called out.

…

"A seriously weird family." Morgan said, thinking over what JJ had read. "Whatever happened, that must be what he wanted revenge for."

.-.-.-.-

A car pulled up the drive, they all heard it. Garcia stretched out, peering out a hole in the blinds, through the dirty window, and gasped.

"He's got Hotch and Gideon!"


	13. Reunion

**Disclaimer: Still not mine. **

**13. Reunion **

Lucas smiled as he drug Gideon into the house, completely unconscious. His sweet sister looked so frightened, and uncle, there was rage in those eyes. He smiled at them, excited in his discoveries, impatient to understand. He took his father into the kitchen, hoisted him into the head chair at the table, and bound his wrists and ankles.

With a smile, Lucas went back to the van, and brought Hotch into the house, unsure of where to put him. He had never known his mother, didn't really know what she had liked. So he decided, and took her to his father's room, the only room on the first floor of the house, close to the living room. They were all close. They would remember.

.-.-.-.-

"Why are you doing this, Lucas?" Morgan asked, watching the way Lucas went from room to room, waiting for Hotch and Gideon to wake.

"You all need to remember, we can live again…"

"I thought you wanted vengeance?" Garcia said softly, looking at Gideon's stirring form.

Lucas laughed. "So did I. I watched you all, you know? Waiting and planning, for months, never seeing that you were my family. But it is hidden beneath the family you all believe you have, that is not who you are. I wanted to kill that family, to make them suffer, because, when I saw it, I saw a shadow of the family I had lost, as if, my family had been destroyed for yours' happiness. But, it was the shadow of who you truly were, reaching out to me!"

A groan escaped Gideon's lips as he came to, and Lucas' face light up. "Father!" He ran into the kitchen, looking through Gideon, seeing the man he had loved and feared. Lucas saw the calm confusion in the man's face, and shook his head. "You will remember soon enough. It's chilly, I'll bring in some wood."

Lucas went into the night, wanting to think, to understand. He was letting his excitement get the best of him, he wasn't thinking. They were all here, they would remember, he would make them, if the were his family, they would understand. The puzzle was coming together, the pieces finding their place, and once all of the lines disappeared, nothing would separate them. But then, there was still the extra piece, the one he was unsure about. If things were clicking as he thought they were, that piece didn't fit, it was a distraction.

.-.-.-.-

"Are you all right?" Garcia called into the kitchen, watching as Gideon tested the strength of his bounds.

"Yes. What is happening." He remembered the pictures, the horror he had felt while staring into them.

Morgan shook his head. "This guy got all of us." A heavy sigh. "We don't know where he's keeping Reid, we think it might be the basement."

The image of that photograph hurt the most. It seemed, by the way Morgan had said it, that they _knew _everyone else was okay. Everyone, but Reid. "Why?" Gideon asked, trying to clear his head.

"At first, he wanted revenge for losing his own family, now he's using us to replace them." Garcia said. "He thinks I'm his sister, Paula, Morgan is our uncle Dan, JJ his aunt Jeanette, Elle his aunt Emily, and you're his father. He was calling Reid my brother, but, he barely mentions him…"

"JJ found Jeanette's journal, this family, they're pretty messed up." Morgan said. "His father was into his uncle, and son. Jeanette was into the three of them. His mother died, and Emily, was depressed about aborting a child she was pregnant with."

"But for the most part, it seemed like they were happy," Elle added. "They were afraid of the outside world, thought it would never accept dirty creatures like themselves."

"We need to get inside of his head, play these roles until he trusts us enough to get an advantage." Hotch's voice surprised them all. "We need to know if Reid is okay."

Feet creaked on the outside steps, the door was slowly pushed open. Lucas came in, arms full of firewood, a twisted smile on his face. He walked in silence to the small wood burning stove in the far corner of the living room and threw a couple logs in. The fire reflected in his eyes, burning orbs of cruelty.

"The problem is," He began, "that I don't feel I have control over the situation right now." He began pacing. "I have you all, there's no way for you to escape, but my mind," He laughed. "It keeps telling my different things. Part of me still wants vengeance, but, I also believe, that you are the reincarnation of my family, mad, isn't it?" He laughed again.

"So, I'm at a loss for action. What to do?" He fiddled with a knife from his belt. "I want you all to remember. Because, I don't want to think I'm the crazy one here."

"Lucas," Gideon's voice was demanding, reminding him of his father. Lucas stopped pacing and stared at Gideon. "Where is the young man you brought here?"

His eyes were distant, then a smile crept across his face. "He's in my room, father. I trapped him in the darkness."

He had to make a choice. He knew if he asked to much, Lucas would know he was faking, but, he knew Reid was afraid of the dark. "Take him out of the darkness, Lucas."

Lucas' smile deepened. "Yes, " He said distantly. "It is time he saw the man who's family he tried to steal."

No one had time to say anything before Lucas pushed past Gideon and headed down the stairs to the basement, but now they knew where Reid was, and had to hope that he was okay.

.-.-.-.-

Reid heard their voices, and knew that they were all here because of him, and the blame fell heavily upon him. He felt the scabs rip and bleed on his wrists as he pulled at the ropes, squirming in his terror of the slowly approaching feet.

He felt the bed shift as the man sat next to him, trapped him. And then the blindfold was removed. Dim light covered the room, bare and empty. The man was young, attractive, and smiling. He moved his hands over Reid's face, grinning, then slapped him.

"You thought you could take them away from me, thought they were yours. Well, they are mine." He laughed, moving away. He moved toward the stairs, climbed a few, then looked back. He looked into Reid's confused, frightened eyes, and smiled, his lips curling and teeth bared. "Yes, you'll be rather useful, in case they don't cooperate, but, we wont tell them that, Kay?" He laughed thickly, then left the basement bedroom.

There was nothing to do but study his surroundings, and cry. He felt the warm tears run down his face as the man's laughter echoed in his ears.

.-.-.-.-


	14. Mother

Disclaimer: Criminal minds will never be mine, because Pinky and the brain have yet to take over the world.

**14 . Mother**

Lucas emerged from the basement, his eyes distant, and a cruel smile on his face. Seeing the terror in the boys face had sparked the darker side of what Lucas had become, had made him want retribution for all the years he had lost. After all, he could be fooling himself with the hope that they were his, it could all be a trick. A beating heart doesn't make it real.

They looked nothing like his family, they acted differently, they were not them. But, the shadows of his family lived inside of them, waiting to be set free. He needed to know how to set them free.

Another burst of anger seared through him as he thought of all the obstacles he had all ready fought, and all that were left. He just wanted, vengeance? His family? Something that he could hold against the fear and isolation he had suffered all these years. There was no more time for games, they would remember, or they would not.

He strode toward Garcia, who looked up at him in fear, and hit her. Instantly, Morgan lunged forward, but was stopped by the chain around his ankle. She stared up at him, shocked, angry, speechless.

"How do I pull Paula out of you?" He asked, watching her cheek turn red.

"I-I don't know,"

He raised his hand, as if to hit her again. "How?"

"Lucas." Gideon yelled from the kitchen, anger plain in his voice.

Lucas turned around and walked toward the kitchen. "I'm not afraid of you, you aren't my father!"

Gideon stared at him, seeing the way that simple action made him reconsider. "You were never violent, Lucas. You never hurt any of us, and Paula never hurt you." He said, hoping that the words were true enough.

Lucas just stopped, and stared at Gideon. "How do I get you back?" He demanded.

"You have us, we are here. It will take time."

He calmed down, and started pacing the kitchen, laughing under his breath. "You told me I'd never meet my mother,"

"What?"

"My mother," Lucas growled. "You told me Id never know her, that I killed her, and would never see her."

"Lucas,"

"No!" He shouted, smiling. "I brought her here, though, I don't think she's anything like she was when you all got to know her."

Gideon didn't know what to say, as far as he knew, the only people here were the team. "Where is she?" He asked quietly, thinking.

"In your bedroom." Lucas replied, walking out of the kitchen, and toward the room where Hotch was shackled to the bed.

It might have been comical if not for their present situation.

Lucas walked into the room, staying out of Hotch's reach. "Why did you leave me, mom?"

Hotch stared at him, dumfounded. "I, couldn't help it." He replied carefully, his mind trying to think of what to say.

"But why?" Lucas asked, why didn't you wait long enough to hold me. Aunty Emily told me that you never even held me."

"I wasn't strong enough." Hotch replied. "It was too much, I couldn't hold on, but I wanted to, Lucas." This was ridiculous.

Lucas smiled, a chuckle escaped. "Why were you reborn as a man?" He questioned silently. "It seems so silly."

"I agree," Hotch said.

"Even though, I'm glad you came back. I waited, always wanting to hear your voice. Paula had heard it, I was so jealous. She wouldn't tell me about you, ya know." Lucas came closer, his eyes heavy. "She always told me she was too young to remember."

Hotch looked around the room, in the corner, fallen behind the dresser, was a faded photograph of a man and a woman, a little girl Jack's age. "She was so young,"

Lucas sighed. "You were young, I was young. You should have held me, father held me."

"I couldn't."

"You should have!" Lucas yelled, throwing the knife he had been fiddling with. It hit as he had wanted, flying past the man who was his mother, leaving a small, clean cut in his right shoulder. "I bleed for you." Lucas muttered, retrieving the knife. He then cut his own shoulder, barely more then a scratch.

"She tried," Gideon called, not knowing what had happened, but seeing fear in Garcia's eyes. "It was my fault, I shouldn't have loved her."

Lucas smiled, and walked into the living room. "No, you shouldn't have. You broke everything you loved. You broke mom, because she was a girl, she wasn't like uncle Dan and me. You made uncle Dan weak and scared. And Im sure, there is something wrong with me." Lucas grinned. "That's why you all left, why I had to live on my own. But I saw you, and wanted to hurt you." A cackle. "I get that from you, dad. But, you are all that I have left…"

"Lucas, we cant remember that night, what happened."

"You wouldn't." Lucas scoffed.

"You need to tell us, Lucas, we need to know, or we will never remember."

A/N: I am really sorry for the wait, I havent had access, and the ideas are being stubborn..


	15. Shatter

**Disclaimer: Criminal minds isn't mine. But, Lucas is. **

**15. Shatter**

Lucas smiled, looking at the assembly with cold eyes. This was a memory he had relived countless times, but never given word to. A series of images that had haunted him, and set him free. There weren't words enough to describe the way he had felt that night the weeks after, here and now.

He looked into the eyes of his father, sister, uncle, his mother. He thought about his aunts, who were upstairs, as they often were. He wanted them all to remember, he wanted them to hear what he was capable of, to fear.

.-.-.-.-

_Many times, Lucas had held the ax, to help his father cut wood, to practice and build strength. It was a familiar feeling, his hand sliding down the handle as he tried to pull himself up. The rain, cool and angry veiling the world. _

_He knew what his father wanted, he wanted to love Lucas, to show him. But Lucas was angry, a feeling so powerful, it demanded Lucas defy his father. An action that also gave him a tingle of power. _

_He hurt where his father had hit him, kicked him, and forced his shirt off. The pain was fuel that ignited the anger, driving him toward instinct. He watched his father move toward him, anger and lust in his eyes. Lucas turned around, holding the handle of the ax tightly, slowly pulling. His father moved behind him, wrapping his arms around his stomach, burying his chin in Lucas' neck. Angry tears mixed with the rain as Lucas pulled the ax from the stump, slamming the end into his father's face, into his eye with more force then seemed plausible. _

"_Damn you!" His father screamed, pulling away, bringing his hands to his bleeding eye. He screamed again, furious and unforgiving. _

_Lucas took the ax into his hands, not knowing why, not understanding his own hate, simply, obeying it. His father looked at him, twisting his lips into a cruel grimace. He chuckled against the wind. "You don't have it in you." He spat, ignoring the blood that oozed down his face. _

_Lucas gripped the ax tightly in his hands, then swung it at his father. Never in his life had he felt that surge of power and independence, that freedom. The loss. The ax cracked the bones of his father's face, caving them in as is sliced through the skin, exposing muscle and bone, killing so easily the man he had loved and feared. _

_He watched his father fall to the ground, blood and chips of bone sinking into the earth, and screamed. His father was dead, he had killed him! God, what would become of them without him? Lucas was no where near ready to take care of the family. _

_He heard the front door swing open, listened as uncle Dan called across the yard, worried. There was no way to explain what had happened, no way to amend. Lucas picked up the ax, consumed with worry and power._

"_Lucas!" Uncle Dan asked, seeing the blood washing off the ax, the unmoving body of Harold. "Oh, Lucas, what have you done," Dan asked, relieved. Lucas had ended their nightmare. He bent down to the body, checking if he were really dead. _

"_I-I'm sorry, Uncle Dan…" Lucas stammered, unsure. _

"_He's dead," Dan said, a secret smile on his lips. _

"_I'm sorry," Lucas repeated, before planting the ax in his uncle's brain. _

_He felt as if he were running through water, slowed and clumsy. There was nothing he could do to undo what had been done. No way to bring back uncle, father. The family could not stand on its own, there was nothing. He had to help them through this dark hour. He couldn't move fast enough as he ran toward the house, and he entered. There were three left, three women who would never be able to make it on their own. _

_He could hear footsteps, someone was coming! He moved to the side of the staircase, the ax ready, and listened as his aunt Jan came down the stairs, she didn't even see him swing. The ax penetrated one of her legs, shattering it and sending her sprawling toward the floor. Fear and confusion permeated her eyes as she turned toward Lucas, unable to ask him why. _

_He hesitated, his love for her begging him to stop, but his love also told him that they all needed to be saved from this world. A tear kissed his cheek as he swung the ax into her chest, through her heart. _

_A scream from above alerted him to his surroundings. Paula was staring at him, shocked, afraid. As if he were some kind of monster. He smiled, a sad, lonely movement of lips, and slowly began to ascend the stairs. She ran toward her bedroom, slamming the door. _

_Lucas could hear her crying, could feel her pain. He thrust the ax through the door, over and over, until he broke it open. He reached in and unlocked it, walked in and smiled sadly. Paula was huddled in a corner, her knees drawn up, crying. He knew if he listened to her words, he might not be able to set her free, so he did it quickly, shattering her sad, beautiful face until he could not recognize any part of it. _

_He walked to aunty Emily's sewing room, she sat there, as if she had not heard the screams, as if, she had known all along. _

"_I'm proud of you Lucas. We may finally be free." She bowed her head, and closed her eyes. _

_Lucas stared through her as her head rolled around the floor, like a dropped quarter. _

_He drug the bodies out to the yard, to the small underground shelter they had in case of a tornado. He cut out their hearts, wanting to keep their love with him for always, and dropped the bodies in. _

" I freed you all! I released you from this hell, and what did I get? I got years of torment and isolation." He snickered. "Every one of you hurt me in some way, I was only a boy! Well, when I began seeing you on the streets, walking, I only saw the shells you had hidden in. I thought they were just a family, one that resembled ours closely enough that I could hurt them and feel better about my life. But no, it was really all of you." He growled. "You even denied me the small pleasure of hurting them. But I know, I know that inside of those shells, you are MY family, and I am in _control_!"

Lucas smiled at them, domination flowing through him in electric waves. They were his to torture, to rule. He would get back his pain, and have fun while at it. Everything was set, nothing had been forgotten. And now, the real fun could begin.

A/N: Thanks much to the people who reveiw for me, it makes me feel beeter to know how you are liking this, and that, well, anyone likes it!! Loves you all!


	16. Power and Control

**Disclaimer: **Criminal minds isnt mine, but, a twisted little imagination is...

**16. Power and control**

There was no way around the evil that shone in Lucas' eyes, the pure and utter loathing. He had plans, that, they could see would leave them scarred, or even worse, dead. He wanted to hurt them, their selves, and the people he believed them to be.

His laughter sent chills down their spines as he moved into the kitchen, glaring at Gideon, then moving toward the stove and counter. Loudly, he pulled a large pot from under the counter, filled it with water, and put it on the stove. "I'll have to feed you," He said to Gideon, while he dumped in a few cans of cream of mushroom soup.

Lucas left the stove to do the cooking, and sat at the table, across from his father. "Why did you use me and uncle Dan?" He asked bluntly.

Gideon was not sure how to answer this. He knew almost nothing about the people who had once lived here, had not had time to try and figure them out. He would have to be careful, because there was no room for mistake. "It was the easiest for me." He answered vaguely, watching Lucas' reaction. He didn't seem to distrust the answer, only consider it.

"Why?" He asked.

Gideon shifted. "It made me feel in total control of the house, of everyone. I had every man under my control, it scared the women. I had a craving, a want. You, and Dan were the only thing that could satisfy it."

"And mother, what about her?" He seemed taken in by the answers, fully interested.

"It was a dream." Gideon answered, trying to think. "She was something I'd never had, something that seemed out of my reach. I thought she would make me happy, satisfy me, but in the end, all she did was disappoint." Gideon hardened his gaze, watching the way Lucas shifted, wondering.

He thought over what he had just said, of the possibility that this boys father had actually thought like that. That he to, may think that way. How much like his father was Lucas, what would he do to keep control?

Lucas smiled, a crooked grin. "What about your other son?"

"What?" Gideon asked, confused.

"Your other son." Lucas rolled the words off his tongue. "The one who doesn't belong, the one that I lured all of you here with?"

_Reid!_"What about him?" Gideon asked, trying to keep a steady voice as fear crept through him.

"Did you ever love him like you loved us?" Lucas asked, standing.

"No." Gideon said. "Never like you."

Lucas cackled. "Liar! All the years you spent away, are you saying that you never once touched him?"

"Never." Gideon replied, his unease rising. "He isn't real family. He's not like you and Dan."

Lucas moved into the living room, toward Garcia. She tried not to move, or provoke more of his anger. He stared at he lovingly, and reached out his hand, gently caressing her cheek. "Does this anger you, father?" He taunted. "I'm touching a woman, dear sweet Paula." he looked at Morgan. "Did you fancy her, uncle?"

"Your angry at your father, so am I." Morgan said, keeping his eyes on Garcia while she looked at him, afraid. "What he did,"

"Was love us." Lucas finished. "He loved us, like only a man can. It hurt, but it was real. I know you wanted to run away with Aunt Jan, I know you were going to leave me behind, with father, forever."

Lucas moved toward the stairs. "What would you do, uncle, if I decided to make love to aunt Jan, to take her away? What if I killed her again?" Lucas taunted, moving up the stairs.

.-.-.-.-

JJ had heard every word, and she was as prepared as she could be when Lucas walked into the room. She backed away, until she was against the wall, braced to attack.

"I've missed you, Aunt Jan. Your smile, your laugh. I craved you the way my father craved mother." He moved forward.

"No, Lucas. I don't want this, it'll hurt you."

"But," He sneered. "You wrote about me, about the ways you tried to tempt me, to take me. You wanted me fourteen years ago, when I was young and broken."

"I was confused, trying to understand-"

He moved forward quickly, then slapped her, jerking his head back as she tried to punch him. She had barely missed, but had given him opportunity. He grabbed her wrist and jerked her forward, upsetting her balance. He pinned her down, she struggled.

"Get off." She said coldly.

Lucas smiled. "If I wanted to, I could take you, I could use you the way you wanted to use me. Remember that." He said, then turned her over.

He bound her wrists, the unshackled her leg. JJ tried to fight him off, but he was strong. He led her down the stairs, she looked at Morgan, Garcia, caught a glimpse of Hotchner, then watched Gideon as she was pushed to her knees in the corner of the kitchen.

"Lucas." Gideon said sternly, not wanting anything to happen to JJ. "Not with her."

Lucas smiled again, then backhanded her. "Wasn't planning on it, father." He said as he shackled her ankle to another length of chain in the corner, near the sink. He then uncuffed her, and stared at Gideon.

"I have the power, I am in control. Anyone disobeys me, and someone else will suffer. I am not afraid." He looked deeper into Gideon's eyes, sensing the difference between he and his father. "Are you worried about him?" Lucas asked mockingly.

Gideon knew he was talking about Reid, who he was worried about.

"Answer me," Lucas said, grabbing JJ by the hair.

"Barely." Gideon replied coldly. "He isn't my son."

"No, I am." Lucas said, releasing JJ. He moved closed to Gideon, within touching distance. "Love me, father."

Gideon stared at him, there was no way. "Not now, Lucas." He replied.

"Love me!" Lucas demanded, stepping closer.

"No." Gideon shouted. "I am displeased with you."

Lucas laughed cruelly. "I bet you loved him whenever he asked. You still love him." He slammed his fist into the table.

"No Lucas."

"I'm your son, he isn't. Now touch me like you used to! I've waited for fourteen years."

He couldn't do it, he couldn't have sex with this man. Gideon shook his head.

Lucas scoffed, then moved toward the basement door. "You son of a bitch. You think I'm not worthy of you anymore? You wont touch me?" Hysterical. "I am in control! You will remember that. I am your son, he isn't." He jerked the door open, making for the stairs.

Gideon's eyes widened, and he couldn't keep his calm. Lucas was angry, he was going toward Reid. "Lucas," He tried to sound controlling. "Get back here!"

Lucas grinned, an angry, ugly thing. "Nice try. I am your son, I'm the one you are supposed to love. But I am also like you, father, and I've developed a craving of my own." He grinned and descended the stairs, leaving the door open.

.-.-.-.-

Reid had heard the shouting, had heard everything. Thoughts of what must have happened to everyone raced through his mind. He wanted to know if they were hurt, what he had done to them. He had heard him go after Garcia and JJ, Hotch, Gideon. Now he was coming down the stairs.

Reid knew he was angry, he knew that, whatever was going to happen, he really couldn't fight. He could see the anger seething out of Lucas as he stormed toward the bed where he had tied Reid down. Anger, power, revenge. He silently begged Lucas not to come any closer, but the muffled pleas only seemed to make Lucas smile.

"I'm his son." Lucas said, smacking Reid hard across the face. A sound that echoed through the house. "Not you, never you."

Lucas leaned over Reid, inhaling his fear. He traced his finger down the lines of Reid's face, toward the tears he was trying not to cry. "I am my father's son." Lucas chuckled, loosening the belt of Reid's pants.

Reid's eyes widened, his heart beat faster then he believed possible. _No. This couldn't happen. Please no._ He pulled at the bounds, feeling the skin rub open again, not caring as he tried desperately to be able to fight back.

Lucas smiled, his eyes staring into Reid's. With his free hand, he worked the knot of the gag, loosening it, pulling it away. "Scream." He laughed.

"Please don't," Reid begged.

Lucas smiled, climbing onto him, grabbing his chin. "You are not his son."

.-.-.-.-

The screams echoed through the house. The pleas and cries haunted their ears. They knew, without needing to see what was happening, they knew. They heard the pain and desperation in each scream, they could smell his tears in the dirty air. And every one of them wanted to cry.

There was no reason Reid should have to suffer, no reason for what was happening to him. There was no reason that any of them should be here, trapped and afraid. But it was, there was nothing they could do. Nothing but hope for it to end, for Lucas to stop. Gideon tried commanding him to stop, but when he did, Reid screamed louder, in more pain. There was nothing they could do.

Lucas had control, power over all of them. He had used Reid as a way to draw them all in, and he would continue to use him as a way to control them. He was winning.


	17. Comply

**17. Comply **

His body was raked with pain, his limbs on fire, sweat cold. The tears were still falling, though his voice had grown hoarse he still screamed. There was blood, he could see it on Lucas' hands, on the knife, on his body. And there was that smile.

Lucas' lips curled into that cold grin. He looked at the boy, whose tears were sliding down chapped cheeks, leaving trails of sorrow. He watched the way his body trembled, and wandered if he had been that way the first time his father had taken him. He looked at the blade of the knife he had used to trace along the boys skin, small lines, he had just wanted to see him bleed. Except for the incision on his upper left arm, that would definitely scar.

A laugh escaped Lucas' throat as he thought of the power that coursed through him. The kind of power his father had once had, the power he now had over all of them. They were his, and they would remember it.

He cleaned up some of the blood with an old rag, then half placed it in his pocket. He looked the boy over, seeing where his wrists were bleeding, where bruises were forming over is body. Another chuckle.

"You'll have to stop trying to get free." He whispered, leaning over Reid.

Reid tried to sink into the bed to get away from Lucas. He was slapped for the effort. Fresh tears burned his eyes as Lucas re-tied the gag, tighter this time. He could hardly breath, hardy move. He was sure that this would be the way he died.

"I'll be back." Lucas smiled, then headed toward the stairs.

.-.-.-.-

Gideon watched as Lucas entered the kitchen, a satisfied, cruel smile on his lips. His heart stopped when he saw the blood on Lucas' hands, as the bloody rag was thrown onto the table. Reid's blood, he was sure.

"Why did you do that, Lucas?" He asked, pain in his voice.

"He's not your son. He is nothing to any of you, just a distraction from our family."

"You didn't answer my question, Lucas." He repeated, sounding less pained.

Lucas chuckled. "To show you that I am your son, and I am just as cruel as you."

Gideon kept his eyes hard, but could think of nothing to say. What was there to say? He was not this boys father, his refusal to have sex with him had gotten Reid, _No_. He didn't want to think it. _There was always the chance that he was wrong, that Lucas hadn't_. No. Lucas had, because of him.

"If any of you try to deny me again, if you try to cling to your false lives, I'll do it again." He threatened. "You are mine!" He growled, then stormed out the front door. Leaving the soup to burn on the stove.

.-.-.-.-

When the were certain Lucas had gone, they relaxed a bit. With him gone, they could talk, plan. They needed to gain the upper hand, to get out of there. They did not know how much time they had until he returned, or where he had gone. In a way, they didn't care.

Gideon turned toward the basement stairs, looking into their darkness. Reid was down there, alone, hurt, in the dark. Was there nothing they could do to comfort him? He closed his eyes, ignoring JJ's worried stare, and called down the stairs. "Reid?"

There was no answer. A fear gripped all of them. He could be dead, how would they know? The silence. So thick, terrifying. In all of the pictures Lucas had shown them, Reid had been fully bound, hopefully, that was why he couldn't respond. But, there was always the chance Lucas had killed him, after all, how would any of them know?

"Reid, can you hear me?" Gideon strained, hoping for some kind of reply.

.-.-.-.-

Lucas drove toward the nearest gas station, angry, fulfilled, and power hungry. He had never felt so good as he had while hurting the boy, never felt so in control. It had hurt them, the hear those beautiful screams, to know what was happening, to see the blood on his hands.

They had suffered every bit as much, and would continue to as long as they held on to their false selves. Eventually, when they fully remembered, the thought of the boy would sicken them, because they would not care for him. Soon, the only son they would care for would be Lucas.

He entered into the gas station, scanning the shelves for something to feed his family. He knew that the can of soup was wasted. He picked up bread, milk, Chex mix and a small package of antibiotic cream. That should work, he had a few other things at home.

He smiled at the cashier, blood faded on his hands, and purchased his items.

.-.-.-.-

"Reid, can you hear me?"

Reid didn't open his eyes, he didn't want to see, but he heard Gideon's voice coming from above. There was pain in his words, coated with worry. Despite the pain in his throat, he tried to answer, to call back and attempt reassurance. But he was weak, and his voice muted.

He clenched his eyes shut, feeling frustrated tears beginning to form. They couldn't be worried for him if they were going to think straight and get out of this, they needed to know that he was all right. The though almost made him laugh. All right? If this was all right, then the days before must have been euphoric.

He couldn't make out their words, his head hurt too much. But they were talking about him, worried remarks in urgent voices. He pulled at the ropes, nothing but more blood. He tried to call out to them, his voice was small, he tried to move, one leg was free.

Dumbfounded, he paused. When had his right leg come lose? Did it matter? He moved it around, trying to fight off some of the soreness.

.-.-.-.-

There had been no answer.

Gideon felt the weight bear down harder as they all listened for some sort of reply, a sign that he was at least alive. But there was nothing.

"Please…" JJ whispered, watching the doorway, hoping.

Morgan closed his eyes, trying to fight away the sounds of his screams. "C'mon genius." He said softly

Garcia whipped away tears, trying to shed no more. Everything was so quiet, so, dead. Inside, she begged for any kind of noise, any sign. Something.

He tried to think logically. After seeing the photos, he knew that it would be hard for Reid to respond. After hearing the attack, he knew Reid was probably weak, maybe unconscious. Anything to believe that Reid hadn't died that way. Anything to believe that he would be able to get all of his team out of this alive. Hotch listened to the silence, anything, please.

Tears fell, and Elle was glad that no one could see them. So many tears, and within her, fear. Fear that the man had killed Reid, or that he'd been too badly hurt. More tears, more silence. Quiet begging.

The sound was so small, they all almost missed it. A tiny, muffled, hoarse cry. Relief so strong, it could not be measured. He was alive, right? They had heard right? Then another sound, louder, like something hitting a wall. The sound came two more times, then it was gone. He was alive, and fine enough to let them now so.

Gideon exhaled, opening his eyes. "We have to think, before he gets back."

They all agreed. There was no way they could pretend forever, beyond guesses and hints, there was nothing. And they all knew that when they couldn't do as he wanted, Reid would be hurt, and in the end all of them would be killed.

"We do whatever we can to follow through with him, at some point, he'll make a mistake." Hotch said, hearing the tires come up the driveway.

"As hard as it will be, we need to try and forget Reid." Morgan said, his throat tightening. "Lucas wants us to remember only one family. As long as we remember Reid, Lucas will hurt him." Anger. Hate. Because when this was over, Lucas would pay.

Steps coming up the porch stairs.

They tried to mask their anger, hate, and worry. They put on desolate faces and watched Lucas enter with a paper bag and groceries. Not much, but he seemed content with what he had. He didn't look at them, just made his way to the kitchen.

He put the bread in the toaster, making two slices for each of them. A handful of Chex mix, and a glass of milk. They would have to make do. He took food to all of them, smiled, then returned to the kitchen. He was still silent, something that irked them all. He fished the antibiotic cream out from the bag, then wet a washcloth and headed down the stairs.

.-.-.-.-

The boy flinched and cried out as the cream began trying to heal the cuts. He hated the feel of Lucas' hands on him, the way his muscles screamed when Lucas untied his hands to bandage them, then bound them again. It was over quickly, clean up and go. Then Lucas left, heading up the stairs, leaving Reid alone in the dark.

.-.-.-.-

They had heard the faded calls of pain, and could only hope that Lucas was only trying to repair whatever he had done. Gideon stared at the bloody rag, remembered the blood on Lucas' hands, and knew they had no choice but to comply.

He came back up the stairs, a smile on his face, and looked from Gideon to JJ. He went into the living room, smiling from Garcia to Morgan. He smiled at Hotch, then walked up the stairs, to bring Elle down, he smiled as he did.

They all saw the faded, drying blood on his hands, they all remembered Reid's screams. Each of them shivered on the inside when they saw that smile. They had to comply, to play his game long enough to escape.


	18. Role Play

**A/N:**Special points go out to TellyGirl for being the first to point out that all of Lucas' family members have the same first initials as the BAU member they are 'reincarnated' as! Well, except for Hotch and Gideon, but their characters were last minute changes, lol

**Disclaimer:**Criminal minds is not mine, no matter how I may want it.

**18. Role play**

Elle was taken to the bedroom where Hotch was, fastened to a length of chain near a plain, dusty chair. She was calm, Trying to seem every bit as distant as those journal entries made Emily seem. Were her hands not bound, she might have tried to fight him, to get everyone free. _Dammit_.

Lucas looked from Elle to Hotch, his eyes becoming lazy as words tried to form in his mouth. For a few seconds more, he just stared, trying to see his mother in Hotch. His vision clouded, and in his mind, she appeared. Long black hair, veiling her shoulders and the corners on her face. Soft brown eyes, with a hint of the coldness that dominated his father's eyes. She was lovely, petit and simple. All of these things he had never known. He loved her, yet, he hated her. Hated because when she died, his father came after him, with her gone, there was no family love in the house, only a lust. Without her, everything had fallen to pieces.

He moved quickly, grabbing Hotch by the hair, ignoring Hotch's hands as they wrapped around his wrist. Had his mother been this strong? He stared into Hotch's angry eyes, seeing in them anger and worry._Good_, He thought. _Be afraid_.

"Damn whore." Lucas muttered, looking away, but still holding Hotch's hair tightly.

"Lucas,"

He swung, hitting Hotch across the face, watching blood ooze from his lip. "That's why you died, it has to be. Father said it once, that all whores die young."

"Lucas, I never-"

He pulled back on his hair. "Shut up." He released Hotch, stepping back. "And you, aunty, pregnant with a stranger's child."

Elle looked at him, keeping herself cool, even though fire burned within. "I loved him." She said, the words empty. "He was everything that was right, good."

Lucas snickered, his throat constricting with the effort. "You had me. I was good, you could have helped me!"

"You loved your father too much," Elle said, trying to piece things together, hoping that she was right. "You wouldn't have listened, wouldn't have left."

He looked stunned, confused. Was she really remembering that quickly, did she know? "You're right," He said, voice empty and small. "I loved as I was taught. But you could have shown me different, could have saved us all."

"I was broken." Elle said, bits of anger coming through. "I was killed."

Lucas smiled. "We all were."

He turned back to his mother, wanting her to hold him, wanting all of the things he had never had. He sat on the end of the bed, just out of Hotch's reach. "You wont find the keys to these shackles on me." He said confidently, assuring them that, even if they managed to subdue him, there was no escape. "And if you try anything, I'll hurt the boy again."

Hotch tried to keep the anger from showing, the want to hurt this man. He was using Reid as a shield, hurt me, you hurt him. He was manipulating them. Hotch nodded, waiting to see what Lucas wanted now.

Lucas smiled, pleased that His mother was obeying. Her eyes seemed less involved when he mentioned the boy, maybe, they were starting to forget, to only want him. Good, this was _his_ family! "Mother," He said, softly, trying to sound young again. "Please, hold me…"

Hotch looked at Lucas, not wanting to touch the man unless he were hurting him, but he knew what had happened the last time they had disobeyed, and he knew that Lucas would do it again in a heartbeat. He drained the disdain from his eyes, and opened his arms.

Lucas crawled over the bed, a childish smile on his lips, as if, he really were the young boy who had been deprived of all that he had once been. Small, hurt and afraid. Hesitantly, he laid his head on his mother's lap, relaxing as he felt his Mother's hand on his shoulder, such a small gesture, yet one that filled him with more warmth and compassion then he had felt in what felt an eternity.

Hotch tried not to think of the screams that were still haunting his psyche as he comforted the man who had summoned them. He tried not to focus on the fact that he was comforting the man who had hurt one of his agents, who had hurt them all. Instead, he thought of his wife, her smile, the sound of Jack giggling, anything to escape this reality.

He felt Lucas shift in his arms, turning to look up at him. His eyes seemed expectant, but, what could he want? Then Lucas smiled, and action that sent chills over Hotch's flesh.

"If you would have lived, Everyday could be like this," he said quietly. "There never would have been any pain, just, affection, family."

Hotch stared out the dusty window, distant, remembering. "But I died."

"We all did," Lucas whispered.

.-.-.-.-

Lucas walked into the living room, a sense of serenity flowing through him. His mother, dead, dirty thing that she was, had held him. He had lain within her arms, and all hate and anger had drained. It had been such a nice feeling, a welcome one.

He looked at his sister, who seemed afraid of him, the red marks on her cheeks like rouge. Beautiful. Uncle seemed relaxed, though, there was still anger within him. But, uncle had always been protective, that side of him would always hold out longest. He smiled at them, then went into the kitchen.

His aunt and father looked at him, waiting. They were unsure, he could tell, about his outbursts. He smiled, a chilling, peculiar motion. "We'll all be right soon, We will all be home." He said quietly, moving toward the sink, running cold water over dirty dishes until his hands were numb with cold.

.-.-.-.-

The gas station clerk, Chuck, stared ahead down the chip and snack isle. He had seen the man many times the year he had been working here. Not often, but, frequently enough, the man came for gas and odd assortments of food. He had never talked to the man, the man just spoke to himself, always seemed distant.

But Chuck was scared now, though, he wasn't sure if there were reason behind this fear. He had seen blood on the man's hands. He had noticed that he had seen the man more then usual lately, he had bought more food, and something about him had seemed different. But, blood? Maybe it was animal blood, or maybe… Whatever it was, something was not right.

Chuck had picked up the telephone, contemplating whether or not to call the police, when something on the news caught his attention.

"_Special agent Aaron Hotchner of the FBI's Bau team went missing from his home tonight around ten PM, Authorities also have reason to believe that his entire team may be missing…"_


	19. Second Chances

**Disclaimer:** Criminal minds isnt mine, but, damn, I saw that divorce coming!

**19**.**Second chances**

His hands were numb, like they had been that night, that night when he had killed them. Cold water, like merciless rain, stealing away all feeling. He had never felt his mother's warmth, and now that he had, he did not know what to feel. He had yearned for it all his life, craved every thought of what it might be like. It was beyond his most defined imagination.

Her warmth, her understanding. Everything about her, even her manly reincarnation. She was his mother, his light. His everything. This family had fallen apart without her, all had turned to lust and hate. Now that she was back, maybe, there was a chance for them.

Lucas turned away from the sink, staring at his father, those cold, hard eyes. Then toward his aunt, her eyes were soft, even when laced with anger. Seeing her eyes like that, it was almost hard to believe that she had loved him so much long ago. No matter, Mother would make it all better. Wouldn't she?

"Aunt Jan," He said quietly. "Don't you love me anymore?"

JJ paused, unsure. Jan had loved this boy, but she, she hated him. She hated what he was doing to them, she hated that he had beaten them, hurt them, that he seemed to be winning. "Of course I do, Lucas." She said sincerely, hateful tears brimming her eyes.

"I love you too, I've missed your voice." He smiled, them walked out of the room.

Garcia was leaning against the couch, tapping her fingers on the floorboards, trying to chase away the cries in her memory. She knew that Reid was alive, that he was okay, but those screams, she couldn't pull away from them. Another tear fell down her cheek, sliding away onto the dirty floor.

"It's going to be okay," Morgan said quietly. He had moved as close to her as possible, leaning against a cold wall. "We're going to get Reid out of here."

She could hear the pain, the hate in his voice. This was killing him, not being able to go after this guy. She tried a smile, seeing the way it seemed to make him feel better. "Yeah…" She said, turning sharply as she heard Lucas enter the living room.

He came over to the couch, seemingly at ease, and sat down. Garcia looked at him, unsure of what he wanted. Every time he had come near her, he had hit her. But now, he just sat, staring at her with longing eyes.

"Paula, oh Paula I've missed you." He said, gently touching her cheek with his cold hands. "Do you remember when we used to play together, when everything was okay?"

She closed her eyes. "I remember days without pain, and sunshine." She said quietly, thinking of her own family, of dreams not fringed with nightmares.

"So do I," He sighed, pulling her into a hug. "I'm so sorry."

More tears fell from her eyes, tears of worry, of fear.

"I didn't mean for all of us to die, for all of this," He said, motioning toward the chains. "I didn't know that it was you, I just wanted to hurt those imposters, but, I wanted you back." Tears from his eyes.

"It's okay." She said quietly, pulling away from him. "Y-you've got us back."

He smiled, a soft, childish smile. "Yeah, I do."

Lucas turned toward Morgan, there was no seeing past the sad, protective nature of those eyes. His sweet, broken Uncle. A man who had wanted to protect, but had become a victim of his brother, Lucas' father. What a twisted little family.

"I forgive you, Uncle."

"For what?" Morgan asked, unsure of what Lucas was implying.

"For not being able to protect me from my father. For remaining bound to his rules, his word, when he attacked me. For letting it continue until I killed you all."

Morgan did not like the mock in his tone, the way those words froze as they ran through his ears. An all to familiar circumstance He had been unable to protect Reid from Lucas, because he was bound by chains of Lucas' rule. He would be unable to save Reid until they had taken Lucas down. Did that mean that Lucas would continue to hurt Reid until all of this came to an end?

Anger, pure and hard to control incinerated the words as they echoed through Morgan's mind. If this basterd even tried it again, he would pay. "Don't be like your father." Morgan said, controlling the anger in his voice. "Don't risk losing everything again because of those urges."

Lucas smiled. "I am so much like him. Though," He said sweetly, "I have much more control."

He got up off of the couch, heading toward his father's bedroom, looking at his mother as she sat on the bed, watching. She was beautiful, so very beautiful. It was no wonder that his father had fallen in love with her, that, of all the things he could have had, he had chosen her.

Instinct and urge were strong in his family, something that each member followed like direct orders. He felt those orders crawling through his veins as he looked into his mother's eyes, felt his body responding. In a rush of silent, screaming commands, he charged into the room, grabbing her roughly by the hair, taking her by surprise.

In her confusion, it was easy to force her back onto her back, to climb onto her. He kept the finger's of his left hand tight in her hair, then smacked her with his right. Power and sweet craving rushed through his veins as he watched blood appear in the corner of her mouth, as he saw the fear and anger in those deep brown eyes. _Yes_.

Hotch could only think that this was wrong, that he did not want this man on top of him, contemplating what to do. He thought of the fear that was welling inside of him, and knew that even though his was vast, Reid's had been deeper still. Hotch could fight back. But his minds wasn't working fast enough, it felt suffocated of thought. He felt Lucas jerk his head back, no doubt pulling a few hairs out of his scalp. He felt Lucas' hand underneath his shirt, heard Elle's screaming joined with shouts from the others.

He worked his arms out from Lucas' control, and grabbed the hand that was caught in his hair. It loosened, but made for his throat instead.

Lucas watched his mother fight for breath, listened to the angry yells of all around. He had only wanted to touch her, to love her as his father had. But she was rejecting him, after all of these years of not knowing him. He became angry as her grip started to loosen, and let go of her throat. Watching with teary eyes as she gasped for breath. It wasn't fair.

He climbed off of her, watching her struggle to breath as bruises formed on her skin. Without waiting, he jerked her hands together, binging them, then undid the chain holding her ankle. He forced the barely breathing Hotch through the living room, into the kitchen, into the chair at the other end of the table. Lucas did not have a chain ready for that chair, so he bound her to it the old fashion way, with rope from the cupboard. Secured tightly, he looked into his mother's angry eyes and hit her hard, causing her head to jerk backwards.

"Why do you pull away?" He shouted.

Hotch took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing mind. "You are my son," He said shallowly.

"What's that got to do with anything?" Lucas asked bitterly.

"I, I wont hurt you the way they did." Hotch breathed, trying to steady himself.

"I'm not afraid of being hurt," Lucas said coldly. "I want to be loved, to know the love that father knew when he had you."

"You are not your father."

Lucas smiled darkly, the corners of his mouth twisting into spirals of anguish. "I am everything that this family made me." He said, slamming his fist down on the table. He looked into his mother's eyes, grabbed the back of her head, and kissed her. A drawn out, lonely kiss that would never survive. "I am everything that destroyed it."

Lucas turned away angrily, growling deep in his throat. He had asked so little, were they truly still resisting him? Why weren't they realizing that this was everything they had ever had? He shook his head, then strode toward the basement door. They needed to be tested, he needed to know.


	20. Test

**A/N:**Just thought I'd mention it, but, I listened to "Requiem for a dream" from the Lord of the Rings soundtrack the entire time I was writing this chapter.

**Disclaimer.**Criminal minds is not mine, only the pain that I create.

**20. Test**

He heard his father shout angrily as he descended the stairs, he did not care. He stormed into his room, seeing the symbol of a second life lying on his bed. He smiled as the boy shivered, a satisfying reaction.

Without hesitance, he hit the boy, hard across the face, blackening his eye. Yes, sweet pain. All he had ever known was pain disguised as love, this boy needed some pain. This family needed to know which son they wanted. A sickening smile.

Lucas grabbed a shirt from the corner of the room, then tore it apart, using a long, thick strip to blindfold the boy again. He hated the darkness, Lucas' life was darkness. The boy fought against Lucas, squirming away from the blindfold until it was secured around his eyes, submerging him in darkness.

Reid felt Lucas shift on the bed, felt a hand moving over his stomach. He cried against the gag in his mouth, wanting to scream, because he was afraid, he didn't want to go through this again. He pulled at his loose leg, and kicked out blindly.

Lucas had been admiring the helpless beauty of the boy, wanting him again, wanting to test all of them, when a foot connected with his chin. He growled in anger, furious, yet, warm inside. He felt the pain spread through his face, laughing as he grabbed the foot and twisted it to the side. He heard the boy's muffled, pain filled scream, and he cherished it.

Lucas sat upon the boy's legs, keeping him from kicking out again, and leaned over him to untie his hands.

Reid felt Lucas' weight on his legs and began to panic. All he could think was, _please, not again_. He felt his arms being freed, but the muscles were sore, tired, and any attempt at fight he had tried was easily overcome. He felt Lucas move off of him, again he tried to move away, but Lucas grabbed his waist and pulled him back, wrestling him down and pulling his sore arms behind his back, sending waves of fresh pain through his muscles.

His wrists were bound tightly by thick knots. No escape. And then he was thrown onto the dirty floor as Lucas paced the room. He listened, unable to see, as the steps moved away, then closer, away, closer. Over and over again.

Lucas looked at the boy, then away, debating. He would test his family, he would know how sincere they were. He moved toward the green cabinet that his mother had made, ripping open the door, tearing it from it's hinges. The hearts were there, they were beating! The scent of mold and decay was strong, he knew that he might be loosing the family he had wanted to badly to have back. He might be loosing everything.

Lucas grabbed the jars into his arms and stomped up the stairs, clutching them as if everything depended on them. He saw the looks in the eyes of his mother and father, deep, emotionless eyes, though, something seemed to be hiding behind them. No doubt it was the feeling they still had for their little distraction, though, maybe, he was wrong. Maybe things were not as he thought, maybe they would remember. He slammed the broken, filthy jars onto the table before them.

"These are you hearts!" He said thickly. "All but yours, mother. I have kept them, watched them sit and rot until they began to beat. Tell me that does not mean you are reborn, tell me that I am wrong!" he screamed.

"Lucas," Gideon tried, not knowing exactly how to handle this now.

"No!" Lucas slapped him. "Don't speak." He turned back toward the basement door. "I'll figure it out, I'll test you all. I will know if you are who I believe you to be, if it is me you love." He turned away, marching down the stairs.

JJ turned to Gideon, seeing her own fear mirrored in his eyes. "We cant let him, not again."

"I know," Gideon said, trying to think.

Hotch stared at the open basement door, not wanting to be any closer to those screams, not wanting to have been a contributor. He pulled at his bonds, trying to get free, anger and fear welling inside. Would Lucas really hurt Reid again, just because he had refused him? Of course he would, he would and it would be all his fault.

.-.-.-.-

Reid listened as Lucas came back down the stairs, felt the vibrations in the floor as he came closer. He tried to move away, but Lucas grabbed him under the arm, and began dragging him toward the stairs. He tried to pull away, to fight back, but Lucas only tightened his grip, jerking him forward rather then the all ready uncomfortable pulling.

Up the stairs they went, tripping and stubbing toes. Reid fought blindly, though, his actions were reduced to squirms and muffled whimpers. The ankle Lucas had twisted throbbed with pain, he swore he could feel it swelling. Lucas held him tighter, pushing him through the door into the kitchen.

He could hear intakes of breath, at least three. So, now his friends were seeing him like this, Reid wanted to cry. He heard Lucas grunt then throw him to the kitchen floor. He fell hard, unable to break the fall, he hit his right side hard, failing to hold in a pained yelp. He couldn't see, couldn't move.

They had been fearing the worst when Lucas had descended the basement stairs, all of them praying that he would not hurt Reid again. They heard a muffled scream, a struggle. They listened as Lucas fought to get him up the stairs. Their fear deepened. It hurt them intensely to see Reid this way, bound and defenseless. Hurt. Terrified.

They let out a collective breath as Reid was thrown to the floor, as pain seared through his body and he tried to curl into himself. They were dreading whatever Lucas had planned, because, the sight of Reid hurt and breaking was enough to hurt them. Whatever Lucas' test was, they were sure, would break them.

Lucas turned to the ghosts of his parents, watching them try to refrain from looking at the boy. He smiled, watching the boy curl up on the floor. "If you are really my family, then this won't bother you at all." He chuckled, pulling a knife out from his back pocket, dried blood on the blade. Lucas moved past Reid, into the living room, staring at Paula and his uncle Dan. "If you turn away, I'll know that you have been pretending this whole time." He growled, the unspoken threat ringing in their ears.

He moved into his father's room, watching Aunty Emily as she stared at him, those blank eyes sizzling with electricity. "You'll watch too." He chuckled, unfastening her chains, cuffing her hands in front of her .

Lucas dragged her out into the living room, over to the couch where he had left Paula. He forced his Aunt to her knees, then hastily fastened her cuffed hands to the other leg of the couch. Uncomfortable, but he only wanted her within view. From this angle, everyone of them would see, and he would know if they were true to his memory.

He moved back over to the boy, grabbing him by the hair, forcing him onto his stomach. He took the knife, and cut away at the boy's shirt, ripping it off. Lucas did not care if the knife cut the boy, more blood, more pain. He listened to the boy cry, watched as tears soaked through the dirty floorboards. Loved the way the knife gently cut through the boy's skin, thin, easy lines. Glistening fresh blood. Lucas knew that they were watching, that they had not yet looked away. _Good_, so far, they did not care.

Reid witched underneath the blade, wanting to move away, wanting to push it into himself, to end this torment. He knew that Lucas was forcing the other's to watch, their lives depended on how they reacted. He knew he needed to be strong, even as the blood oozed over his skin, and his shirt was ripped away.

Lucas pushed the blade into the floorboards, tight enough for it to stand, loose enough to be pulled out easily. He snickered as his father's need for control permeated his essence, as his craving grew. He turned his head, smiling at the grand audience. If this hurt them to see, then they were liars, but if they sat through it, they were his.

A deep smile as he grabbed the boy's hair, pulling his head back. Lucas leaned forward, Licking away some of the blood from his back, breathing down his neck. The boy was fighting away tears, Lucas could feel it. With his free hand, he pulled at the boy's pants, moving them, exposing the bruises and cuts on the boys legs, elucidating what he planned to test them with.

Hotch watched as Reid was cut, seeing the blood lines form over his skin. He watched as Lucas ran his tongue over Reid's skin, tasting that drawn blood, smirking. He knew what Lucas had planned, he saw it all before it happened, and inside he screamed. He could not watch this happen to Reid because he had rejected Lucas. He couldn't sit back and say nothing while Lucas abused Reid before their eyes. But, by speaking, he was condemning them to death. By keeping silent, he was condemning Reid to torture, and his team to overwhelming grief.

From her spot, she could barely see, and she wandered whether it was a blessing, or a curse. She knew that she could pretend to be watching, that she didn't really have to see, but JJ couldn't move her eyes away from Lucas' back as it moved behind Reid, blocking him from her view. Please no, She silently begged, not knowing if she could keep from reacting if she had to hear those screams, had to see them being drawn.

His knuckles were stretched, white. Crescents in his palms cried blood. Morgan fought to keep his eyes before him, to keep away the obvious anger, the tears. All he wanted was to see Lucas bleed, for him to stop, to leave Reid alone. Please leave him alone. Morgan begged, because, he knew he could not sit by and watch this happen without any emotion.

Garcia moved closer to Elle, shaking terribly. She couldn't watch, there was no way. Not this close, not to anyone, especially Reid. She put her hand near Elle's, and felt her friend take it, gripping it tightly. They were both scared, shaking with fear, with anger. They couldn't watch this. They stared at the tears on Reid's cheeks, listening to his subdued cries, and they knew that this had to end.

Gideon closed his eyes, and in that small space of time, he felt tears burning his eyes. He knew what Lucas was going to do, and he could not watch. He knew that he could play it cool when needed, he could rationalize anything to make it seem okay. But he would not with this. He couldn't say that it had had to be Reid earlier instead of him, he couldn't say now that Reid needed to endure this for the safety of the team. Reid needed to be rescued, they needed to get free. He pulled at the chain attached to his leg, feeling the bolt loosen.

Lucas was done messing around, done preparing. He held the boys hair tightly, falling into those cries, then grabbed his waist. He smiled, now he would know, in the next few moments, he would know if they were his, or this boy's.

.-.-.-.-

Chuck wasn't sure that he had done the right thing, then again, he was never quite sure of anything. He had called the police, told them about how the man had been acting strangely, about the blood on his hands. He wasn't sure if it had anything to do with the missing people on the T.V., but he had seen the man buying a lot more gas lately. He didn't really know where he lived, only details about the house the man had muttered to himself while in the gas station.

But, Chuck wasn't sure. He never was. Once the police were gone, he walked to the bathroom, because, there were never people around this early, or late, whatever time it was. He flipped on the light, wrapped the tourniquet around his arm, and prepared the needle.


	21. Interference

-1**Disclaimer: **Criminal minds is not mine…

**21. Interference **

Lucas held Reid, hurting him, forcing him into submission. He felt the eyes of his family watching as he prepared to do to this boy all that his father had ever done to him. Touching with cool, needy fingers, kissing away one pain as another was introduced. He listened to the muffled cries as the boy tried to get away, that terrified scream as he prepared to take him.

Reid could feel Lucas' hands on him, touching him, bruising, cold grasp. He felt Lucas kissing him, hot breath on cold, trembling skin. He hated that the others were watching this, that they were witness to his weakness. His head jerked back as Lucas twined his finger's tighter into his hair, his body froze as Lucas grabbed his waist. _Please no, not again, not in front of his friends_.

He screamed, afraid, shaking uncontrollably. His breathing became hard, quick. He felt like he was suffocating. Reid trashed as Lucas again fought with his pants, trying to remove them. Behind the blindfold, he clenched his eyes shut and let the tears fall, warm, burning liquid to smear the pain. He tried to pull away again, feeling hair rip from his scalp. No matter, Lucas only grabbed more.

He was tired of the boy fighting him, making this harder. He chuckled as he thought of how much easier it had been when he was tied down, yes, that had been perfect. Later, later he would have to do that again.

"Are you watching?" He called to his family, seeing their eyes on his, they were not looking to the boy. Good, he didn't want this to have to end. He wanted them to be his. "If you are mine, then, this will bother none of you, you will watch as you did when father did this to me, you will think nothing of it."

He smiled at Reid, finally getting his trousers undone. "Are you ready?" He whispered hotly. The boy tried to pull away, tried to scream. Lucas grabbed the knife, tracing it over the previous nights wounds, opening them. He watched that blood as it trailed over pale, beaten skin, he thought of every time his father had ever hurt him claiming that it was love.

This was about more then testing them, this was about making everything right. This boys sacrifice would purify them, it would allow for them to be a happy, normal family. Lucas untwined his fingers, using his hand to hold the boys head against the floor, to better immobilize him. He watched the boys bound wrists as they tried to pull free, watched them bleed despite the bandages.

He smiled again, then went for the zipper of his own pants, pulling it free, sliding them away, cackling hysterically as he sensed the tension rise.

All of them felt horror spread through their bodies. He was really going to do it, right in front of them! They saw Reid's tears, watched him trying to get away. They couldn't take this, they couldn't watch. Even if it cost them their lives, no one was going to sit back quietly and watch this happen. They would not let Reid be hurt again.

But they were frozen when they saw Lucas smile, when they saw the lust in his eyes. Helpless as Lucas pulled Reid closer, as he prepared to violate their friend.

It was like one of those slow motion movies, where everything moves impossibly slow, and there is no sound. Empty cries filled stale air, and broken tears crept down warm, bruised cheeks. Lucas let out a man howl, seeing everyone watching, knowing that they must be his as they had let him get this far. So his teeth sparkled like fangs in the darkness of this sinister hour, his grip bruised Reid's skin.

Garcia felt Elle's hand squeezing her own as hard as she was gripping at the floor, her nails breaking under the pressure. There were tears in Garcia's eyes, there was hate in Elle's, burning away the tears she was ready to cry.

Morgan could feel his palms sweating blood, could feel his ankle going numb as he pulled at it, wanting to rush over to Reid. More blood. But he didn't care, and he could not watch this go any farther. He couldn't see Reid unable to fight back while this happened.

JJ closed her eyes, she couldn't watch. It hurt her, knowing what was happening, knowing that everyone but her had to watch. But she couldn't be witness to something this horrible, this demeaning. Not to anyone, not to someone she loved.

No. No. NO! Gideon screamed inside. Not here, not to Reid. Not like this. He had felt the bolt budge, maybe if he continued to pull, if he kept fighting it quietly, he would get free. He could stop this. Please let him stop this. They couldn't be forced to watch, to be expected to stay quiet.

Hotch stared in horror as Lucas lowered his own pants, as he pulled Reid closer. He listened to Reid's cries, his attempt at begging. He watched him try and squirm away. He couldn't let this happen. He couldn't make the others watch, he couldn't watch. This could not happen, not again.

They all wanted to protest, each unsure by the impending punishment that would come of it. If they tried to save Reid, they would all be killed, there was no arguing it. But, they couldn't watch this happen. Seeing his tears fall as he screamed out and tried to get away was enough to break their spirits. Hearing those screams the first time had broken their hearts.

Another blood chilling scream as Lucas debased his bound prey.

A collection of angry gasps and breaking hearts.

Blood dripping from palms, tears freezing in blurred eyes.

Muffled screams and fiery pain.

An enraged yell from a hurting friend. "Don't touch him!"

**A/N: **I'm so sorry this took so long and is so short, I've not had any time to get near the computer. My sisters are evil.


	22. Redemption

-1**Disclaimer: **I do not own Criminal Minds.

**22. Redemption**

"Don't touch him!" The voice was full of anger, hurt, and the utmost concern.

Lucas froze, his grip tightening in anger, bruising the skin under his fingers. _Don't touch him.. _How dare anyone say that! How dare they break his fantasy, admit that they aren't his. Who had broken his hopes?

Lucas pulled away from Reid, replacing their pants, and standing with cruel intent. He stared at the members of his supposed family, and glared into their watery eyes. "Who demanded me to stop?"

Silence, filled only with the ringing of hateful glares.

Lucas smirked, jerking Reid up by his hair, wrapping the fingers of his spare hand around his throat. "Who?"

"Take your hands off of him." Hotch said, his voice pure, sparkling ice.

Reid was thrown to the floor. Lucas balled his fist and marched over to where Hotch was tied to the chair. Anger blazing in his features. He hit him, hard as he could across the face.

"I should have known you'd throw all of this away, mother." He growled. "You were always different, YOU didn't belong." He grabbed Hotch by the hair, pulling his head back. "You tried to trick me, to deceive just like you did my father!" Another punch, this one into his back.

"We aren't your family." Gideon said, his voice steady, but his eyes blazing. This had gone on long enough. They would live, or they would not. "You killed you family, slaughtered them and left them to rot."

"No!" Lucas said, stepping toward Gideon. "Those hearts were beating!" He screamed, pointing toward the jars. But when he looked at them, they were still. There was no living pulse, no movement of maggots eating away at what was left of his family's physical bodies.

"No…" He whispered in confused disbelief. "No, they were, you were," He fell against the wall, his hands shaking, his expression blank.

In his mind, Lucas saw the smiling, loving faces of those he had loved. He remembered every gentle touch, the soft words and warmth he had never again felt. He remembered light within every shadow, and helping hands in the darkness. He remembered the family he had broken that rainy night.

He heard their screams, felt their blood on his hands, absorbing into his skin forever. Never to be washed away. Forever to haunt him, to burden his heavy, childish heart.

A lust for vengeance concurred by a need to be loved. A desire to have all that he had lost, and dreamed of having.

The fulfillment of lying in his mother's arms for the first, the only time. The tears he had wanted to cry into her shoulder. But that had been a lie. Bittersweet punishment.

The satisfaction of controlling, of hurting. The screams of an outsider, the pleasure of another's flesh. Those had excited him, made him feel like he was truly the son his father would have loved.

Lucas looked to the dead hearts and was consumed with a rage that had lain hidden for fourteen years. It was time to end this, all of it. He had killed his family, and left them to live, trapping them within the bodies of these strangers. He needed to fit into his own puzzle, to stop trying to mix the pieces. But first, he needed to remove their piece which too closely resembled his. He would take the child they loved, as he had forgotten to take him self, and then, one by one, they would all die. He would find peace.

The thunder hissed outside his home, speaking into his rage, persuading him. It had rained that night, the first time he had murdered his family. The outside weather was a sign, this was the night. Tonight, he would set all of their souls free, never again to be bound to the earth.

Hotch stared at Lucas, trying frantically trying to loosen the ropes that bound him. It was not hard to see the intent in Lucas' eyes. He was going to kill them. He would kill himself. End game.

"Lucas." Hotch said, trying to keep his voice steady, to repress the hate he felt. "Nothing has to end the way you want it too. We can resolve this differently."

Lucas walked toward his mother, hating the sound of her voice. Again he struck his fist across her face, demanding silence. He fiddled with the keys in his pocket, debating how he wanted to do this, when he wanted it all to end. The thunder clashed as the sky lit up, a brief look into the heaven he had heard the normal people speak of. Was he bond to go there? Would he be truly reunited? He dropped the key ring onto the floor, mad laughter ripping from his throat.

"This ends tonight." He said softly, watching through the window as a strand of lightning ripped the branches off of a tree. Again he laughed, crazed and zealous. He stormed out from the kitchen, looking into the eyes of the people he had taken. Soon all of those eyes would be alive in their emptiness.

He looked down to the boy who had claimed the family he had lost, the boy they all loved and wanted. Trembling, with broken tears running down his cheeks. Weak and powerless, beautiful in suffering. Lucas chuckled, wandering if his father had ever thought of him like that, if in fact, he had even been like that.

He reached down, pulling the boy to his unsteady feet, holding him roughly, and smiling toward his family. "Soon," He promised. "We will all be free. I will have paid for my sin against you, and we can all be together."

He was not gentle as he practically dragged the boy to the front door, as he ripped it open and walked into the rain of a familiar night.

"No!" Hotch yelled, pulling with everything he had, trying desperately to get free.

JJ saw the keys on the floor, three small, glistening keys on a ring, and crawled forward, starching as far as possible to reach them. "I cant-"

"You can!" Gideon said as he pulled at the loosening chain around his ankle. He tried looking through a living room window, desperate to see what was happening. _Please let us get out in time_.

"JJ," Hotch said as he felt the ropes loosening. "I want you to get the others free before perusing Lucas, and find a phone."

JJ nodded, not sure if she could stretch any further toward the keys, she closed her eyes, hoping against hope, until she felt their cold metal against her fingertips.

.-.-.-.-

Reid didn't know what was happening, or where he was being taken. He had heard anger, he had heard Hotch call out to save him. Now, as he was dragged out into the rain, he could hear protest from all of them, a symphony of angry, concerned voices. But he was being taken farther from them, out into the cold, unfeeling rain by a man who continued to laugh and hurt.

He was forced to his knees, the soil was wet and soft. He pulled at his bound wrists, trying to get free. Fighting in the only way that he could. He felt hands in his hair, on his shoulder, and the blindfold was ripped away.

All that was before him, soaked with rain and rusted with years of guilt, was an axe trapped within the rings of an old, thick stump.

.-.-.-.-

Hotch loosened the ropes enough to free his hands, twisting them out, tearing away at the remaining ropes. JJ unshackled her ankle, then quickly moved to finish getting Gideon free. There were rushing, hoping that they got there before Lucas murdered Reid.

Gideon pulled at the Ropes binding Hotch, freeing him, and the two of them ran for the door, running out into the rain in search of their friend and captor.

JJ rushed into the living room, barely able to finish unlocking Morgan's shackle before he was out the door, catching up with Hotch and Gideon.

"JJ," Garcia said, her voice full of fear.

"Don't worry, they'll save him." JJ said as she unshackled Elle and Garcia. "We need to find a phone."

.-.-.-.-

The rain increased the darkness, veiling all that they searched for. Distorting their chances and masking any sound that might aid in their search. Where was he!?

The thunder screamed into the night, thirsting for blood. Lightning stretched out like a cat, yawning out light, opening the darkness for a brief second. Hotch caught it in the corner of his eye, a monster standing behind a kneeling man. Reid!

"Over there!" He said over the rain, running to the corner of the yard as fast as he could, Gideon and Morgan in tow.

.-.-.-.-

"It starts with you," Lucas hissed into Reid's ear. "And ends with me." Roughly, he pushed Reid forward, laying his head onto the stump. Reid tried to get up, to fight, but Lucas' foot was on his neck, holding him down as he grabbed the axe, inspecting its rusted blade.

.-.-.-.-

They saw Lucas lean Reid over, saw him grab the axe. Would they make it on time? Could they? They had to. All the while shouting for Lucas to stop, to move away from Reid.

Lucas turned toward them, and smiled. Watching them come closer, listening to the muffled pleading of the boy. The rain caressed him, embracing him back into the darkness as he raised the axe into the air.

.-.-.-.-

Shouts echoed across the property, thundered screamed as lightning flashed. Showing Lucas that glimpse of heaven, where souls screamed for release from their prison. Rain fell, hard and cold, slowing them all as sirens wailed in the distance, searching for an address they had been given by a strange shadow of a man.

All the while, another shadow stood over a defenseless boy, savoring the feel of his families hands on him, soothing and embracing. Soon, he would be home, soon, this would all be over.


	23. Rain

**A/N: **Sorry I've not been around, so much going on... Just in case I'm not back again in time, Happy Holidays to everyone!!!

**Disclaimer:**Criminal minds be not mine, arg.

**23. Rain**

Lucas closed his eyes, letting the rain hold him as he let out a crazed laugh, then swung the axe down. It hit hard, splintering the wood of the stump and stopping time. The rain fell harder, the thunder laughing and the lightning shrieked across the sky.

Hotch could not stop running, even when he heard the others falter as the axe came down. No! He would not think of what the axe might hit, or what would happen when it did. He only thought of getting there, of hurting the man who had done this, of saving the man who had suffered so.

It was brief, but then they were following again, right behind Hotch, nearing the stump much faster then seemed possible. They saw Reid laid onto it, rain drenching him, blood, new and old washing into the ground.

An angry growl tore through Lucas' throat when he realized that he had missed, barely grazing some of the boy's long hair, chopping it away. He raised the axe again, swung, and was thrown off balance as the boy jerk himself to the side. The axe fell to the ground, and so did Lucas.

Reid tried to move away, though, movement was hard with his arms bound behind him. He rolled off of the log, slamming his shoulder against the mud, water in his nose caused his body to panic. The gag prevented oral breathing, the mud lodged in his nostrils prevented nasal breathing. He squirmed, trying to blow it out, trying to take decent breathes. He screamed weakly. He froze as he watched Lucas crawl onto him and wrap his hands around his throat.

"It's time to go."

They watched him throw Lucas off, watched as he rolled into the mud. Heard his screams as he began to panic. Panicked when Lucas wrapped his hands around his throat. They were close enough to see everything pretty clearly, Reid squirming as he tried to fight, Lucas smiling, laughing as if her were truly crazed.

"Reid!" Hotch called as they neared, seeing the way he stopped fighting, the air denied access to his lungs.

Morgan swung his fist full force into Lucas' unsuspecting jaw, knocking him off of Reid. Lucas didn't stay down long, he was up, screaming and attacking wildly. He swung at Morgan, cracking against his nose, breaking it. But he ignored the pain, this asshole needed to pay. So he hit him, bashing into his skull, blackening his eyes, breaking his nose. Lucas didn't seem pained, only annoyed.

Hotch fell to the ground beside Reid, seeing that he wasn't moving, wasn't breathing. He pulled at the knots of the gag, fighting it with trembling, slippery hands. Please. It came loose, he pulled it out and threw it into the mud. "Breathe." He commanded as he pushed against Reid's chest. Nothing.

Gideon knelt beside Hotch, watching the unmoving form of their youngest, hoping that they had not been too late. Please. He begged, watching Hotch continue to push against Reid's chest. His attention was caught be a scream, he turned away, noticing that Lucas was holding his hand against his chest. It was probably broken. He looked once more at Hotch, Reid, and went to help Morgan get Lucas under control. Rain masking his tears.

Hotch stared at the rain as it slid away from Reid's eyes, like cold unfeeling tears. He wasn't breathing. Nothing was working. He leaned closer, brushing hair away from Reid's face, pressing their lips together, and breathing into him. Giving away his living breath, hoping.

Lucas turned to see his mother, kissing the imposter, and screamed in jealous rage. Incoherent threats and ramblings as Gideon and Morgan threw him to the ground. Gideon leaned over, punching Lucas as hard as he could, feeling teeth come loose as he became unconscious. There was a lot of blood, fresh, new. But the blood on his hands, Reid's blood, didn't seem to wash away in the rain.

-.-.-.-

Three police cars and an ambulance raced up the drive way, their sirens wailing sorrowfully. They skidded to a halt, and jumped from their vehicles to race across the yard toward the fighting figures. Then one went down, two stood momentarily puzzled. Another was leaning over what seemed to be a body. The police grabbed their flashlights, half going into the house and the others across the yard.

.-.-.-.-

JJ, Elle and Garcia had been headed toward the door, having found a phone and requesting ambulances and police, being told that police were on the way all ready had surprised them. They were headed out the door to help the others when they heard the sirens, the screaming.

They ran into the rain, and saw the fight across the yard. They could barely make out what was happening, but all were prepared to run out and help. But the police stopped them, grabbing hold lightly and looking over them. They were the missing FBI.

"Stay here, our men are on their way over to them. We need to know if you're hurt, and what happened."

.-.-.-.-

He breathed again, transferring his air into his friend, willing him to breath. Tears raining onto his face. Please breathe! He silently begged as he breathed again, pushing, breathing. Over and over.

A jerk, then nothing, and then blessed coughing. Hotch closed his eyes in silent thanks as he listened to Reid cough out death.

"H-Hotch." He stuttered, obviously crying.

Hotch pulled Reid into his arms, holding him closely while he cried. "It's all over Reid, everyone is going to be fine." Hotch promised as Gideon came over, a relieved smile on his face. He kneeled down, and carefully untied Reid's wrists, gasping at the damage. They were bleeding pretty badly. There were bruises everywhere, obvious pain.

"We need to get him to the ambulance." Gideon said, helping Hotch to his feet, helping to carry Reid across the yard.

Morgan kicked Lucas once more before one of the officers came over to cuff him. "How do you like being restrained." he whispered softly as the unconscious Lucas was towed toward one of the ambulances.

They rode to the hospital in the police cars. Staring at the house they had barely escaped, at the house that would haunt them in their sleep and memories. They listened to the rain scream like tormented souls as they were taken away, as blood soaked into the ground.

They watched the ambulance that Reid had been loaded into like hunters watching prey, intense. They didn't want him out of their sight where anything could happen. They watched all the way to the hospital, distressed when he was taken away behind emergency room doors. What if he died? All that blood, trauma. Would he want to live through this? No, Reid wouldn't let himself die like that, he was strong. They all were.

.-.-.-.-

Lucas watched the rain fall, driving away all that he had, just like it had fourteen years ago. It cried to him to come back, To ignore the physical pain and return to his life of mental anguish. He could live like that. He could get better and then avenge his family, join them. He had to be buried in the cellar, he started screaming. He needed to be with them. His heart needed to be with the others.

The paramedics gave him more sedatives, calming him, though, he never stopped trying to tell them, never stopped listening to the rain begged of him to go home. Another flash of light, another glimpse of Heaven. He did not see his family, though, A cluster of dirty urchins didn't belong in a place like that, surrounded by people and warmth.


	24. Wait

-1**A/N: **I apologize for the wait, I'm still fighting for computer time…evil siblings…plots temporary destruction

**Disclaimer: **Not mine! No, no ,no!

**24. Wait**

Anxiety pulsed through them as they waited for the doctors and nurses to be done with them. They only wanted to see Reid, to know that he was all right. But they were all kept apart as statements were half taken and doctor's checked them over. Questions and hands everywhere while worry and pain coursed through their hearts.

One by one, they were released to the waiting room, the doctors having given up trying to keep them all separated. They were a family, and they would wait together to see how Reid was doing, because he had suffered most through the ordeal. He had suffered immensely. All they could do was hope. All they could do was wait.

They sat together along the wall, quiet, some grasping each other's hands, other's clenching their own. Tears falling freely while others were held inside. And still the clock ticked, time slipped away uncontrollably and the anxiety built.

Blood. They knew that he needed blood. They had seen blood on Lucas' hands, on the dirty rag, on Reid. They had watched as he was cut, as his blood was licked away, they had seen that precious life giving fluid flow from his cut wrists. There had been blood on the floor, lightly trailing to the door, and in the basement. On the floor, on the bed. It had seemed like so much blood.

Another minute passed, then another. They continued to go, in slow, agonizing strokes. Half an hour had been two days of pain. Inescapable, waiting.

Morgan was finally able to join them, the doctor finally done repairing his nose and the other minor injuries he had received while fighting Lucas. He looked to the others, his brown eyes big and deep with worry. Hotch shook his head, and Morgan closed his eyes, and took a seat next to Garcia, accepting her hand as it wrapped around his.

An officer later walked into the room, notebook in hand. They were all fit to answer questions, and he wanted to get this over with. He had a wife and two daughters at home who wanted to spend the night together. It was Jesse's birthday. It was the obvious pain the waiting brought on that slowed him. all of them, not looking at the clock but watching the minutes pass. They were suffering more now then they had in that house, he was sure. Because now, they had no idea what was going on, the silence, the security was false when they were kept in the dark.

"I know this is a bad time," He started, flinching as they looked at him with those hurt filled eyes. "But, if you're up to it, I'd like to take statements."

They needed to pass the time, they understood his need, so they went. They talked to him in the order that they were taken. Garcia, Morgan, then JJ and Elle. Gideon, and finally, Hotch. Time seemed to move a little faster as they talked, explained and relived. So much blood, so much pain.

The officer thanked them, and left. He would bother these people no more tonight.

An hour and a half seemed like their entire career's over, the longest wait of their lives, when a tired, gloomy doctor walked into the waiting room. All of their eyes focused on him, Hotch and Gideon stood, taking a step forward. They had to know.

"Is he-" Hotch began, not realizing how raw his voice was.

"He is alive." the doctor said, his voice sore, but strong. "He is very lucky." He searched the room, then turned toward Hotch. "I need to speak to family, where are they?"

Hotch looked at the team, then turned toward the doctor. "We are his family."

The doctor's tired eyes looked over them, taking in their pain, and decided to let them in. They had been through this ordeal with the boy, they were the reason he was alive. "All right, follow me." The doctor motioned, and they followed, their hearts aching to know.

They followed the doctor in silent anticipation, looking at all of the doctors and nurses, at the other patients. Every second seemed to move slower, the world around them too fast for the sluggish pace of the clock hands. They followed obediently, until the doctor stopped in front of a large room, nodding toward the window, a great glass wall through which they could view that which they longed for most. Their friend.

He looked horrible, bruises over his skin, tubes all over the place, a cast on his ankle, and his wrists. Bandages, stitches. So much pain.

"Overall, it looks a bit worse then it is. His ankle and left wrists are broken, both were twisted pretty badly. He is dehydrated, and malnourished, multiple bruises all over his body. His wrists were torn severely, they will scar. They blood loss alone could have killed him." The doctor breathed deeply, looking over the motionless form he had spent much of his night trying to repair. "He has been violated, we had to sedate him just to work on him. He was petrified, kept calling for help, for a Gideon and Hotch?" The doctor turned toward them, able to see whom the boy had referred to by the looks in their eyes. "He called for many others too, before sedation. He cares deeply for all of you."

Sad, small smiles graced their lips as they looked toward Reid, completely still and broken. They nodded, and waited for the doctor to continue.

"Thirty-eight stitches, due to the damage of his wrists and the knife marks. Other then that, bruises, it's been a while since I've seen this many bruises on one person." He said, staring long at Reid, horrible images in his mind as he thought of when the boy had been brought in. He didn't believe that they would have been able to save him.

He turned toward the other's, seeing the bruises on them, so few, sp little damage compared to this boy. He was sure they all had bruising from their restraints. The tall, dark haired man had many bruises across his face, where he had probably been hit, and the dark skinned man had a broken nose, but, aside from that, they all appeared to be fine. Physically.

"He will wake soon, you are welcome to go in to him. Please, don't get him too excited, he is still very weak. The trauma alone will hurt him, he will need all of you." The doctor nodded, and continued down the hall, to check on the other man who had been brought in.

.-.-.-.-

They moved into the room, careful not to get in the nurses way. She smiled sadly, then walked out of the room, staying near, but giving them room.

Hotch sat nearest to Reid, picking up his hand gently. There was a trace of blood showing through the heavy bandages. Gideon sat on Reid's other side, holding his hand softly, inspecting the damage. Beside Hotch sat JJ, beside her Elle. Beside Gideon was Morgan, beside him Garcia. A silent vigil.

.-.-.-.-

The man thrashed against the restraints, crazed and angry. He pulled away from all of the nurses who came near, cried out when they tried to speak to him. He was hurting, he said. He told them that he needed to be home, that he had to join the others. He screamed for mercy, for freedom. Their hands hurt him, outsiders were supposed to be cruel.

Tears fell from his eyes, even after sedation. He just wanted to be home, in his father's hurting arms, feeling his love. Listening to Aunt Jan read to him, while Aunty Emily rocked in her chair, sewing his green sweater. Paula humming softly as she stared out the window, dreaming into the sunset. Watching his uncle prey in secret, showing him the way.

A flash of white, and he swore he saw heaven again, he listened to the buzzing of singing angels, the beeping and ringing of their foreign language. But his family wasn't there, he didn't want to stay.

In his mind, he wandered into the darkness, following those familiar sounds, a beautiful rain. He walked through the darkness, losing pieces of himself as he cried, as the rain washed away everything but the blood on his hands. Their six hearts beat with his as he moved through the liquid darkness, back into their arms. Home.


	25. Everything

**Disclaimer: **Criminal minds is not mine...

**25. Everything**

His body hurt, but his tears would not fall. He wasn't even sure he wanted to cry anymore. Everything was dark, but, he had grown used to the darkness. It shielded him from the horrors he didn't want to see. It was warm, dry. He couldn't feel the rain, or the restraints. Maybe he had died. A final escape from the torture he had known.

Voices surrounded him, low, soft, sad. A circle of protection, whispering and feeling. He had never been able to

sense others emotions before, to outright feel the pain and worry emanating from his friends. His friends?

Slowly, carefully, his eyes fluttered open. At first they did not see. His fingers twitched as he tried to move his hands, and all of their eyes moved to him. It was a bit awkward, all of them looking down on him, but comforting. But, was this real? He thought he had died, he had felt the air die in his lungs as the rain soaked through him.

"Hotch…" He said softly, shaking his head as he tried to think.

"It's okay now, Spencer." He said softly.

"How are you feeling?" Gideon asked, looking through the confusion in Reid's eyes straight to the pain. He was hurting inside, remembering.

Reid winced, not wanting to discuss the hurt inside of himself as he scanned the outer injuries. "Sore." He said quietly.

They nodded, knowing he would not want to discuss what had happened, or how it was making him feel. None of them did. They were all being haunted by memories, whether their eyes were open, or closed. They could still fell the cold, musty air of the house, the chains. They could smell the decay, everything. The fear, the hate, everything was still so strong.

Looking at Reid, bruised and frightened hurt them deeply. He was the epitome of what they had been through. He had suffered more then anyone should have to. And for what? They had each asked themselves in the privacy of their minds. To sate the need of a deranged man? A man who wanted nothing more then to have back what he had destroyed. That creature had a broken nose, that creature would never suffer enough for any of them to feel justice. They all wanted to hurt the creature who had done this to them, despite their pity, because he had hurt them, had nearly killed Reid, and to let it go was killing them.

"Guys?" Reid asked, looking up to them, seeing that they were hiding about as much as he was.

"You should rest…" JJ said, trying not to stare into his hurting eyes, at the bruises on his skin.

Everyone except Hotch and Gideon slowly made their way out of the room, terrified of what could happen the moment they stopped watching over him. They had left him once, and then all of this had happened, so what would happen the next time any of them were alone?

Reid stared up at them, uneasy and unsure. Why hadn't they gone with the others? It wasn't that he didn't want them around, no, he wanted to see all of them as much as possible to know that they were okay. But, he wanted to be alone, to let himself deal with what his mind was reminding him of. He remembered all of it, and so did his body. Everything about the experience was written into his being, and he didn't think there was an eraser strong enough to rid him of it.

"I'm sorry." He said softly, tears flowing despite his efforts to hold them in.

Hotch and Gideon turned toward him, hurting at the sight of those tears. There was nothing for him to be apologizing for.

"Reid," Hotch said, moving forward and sitting beside him. "you did nothing wrong."

Gideon stood to his other side, his usually calm eyes were sad, tired. "It's all over, Reid. Everything will be fine."

He shook his head, they didn't understand, either that or they did not want to say it. But this was his fault. "Nothing is fine," His voice was a whisper. "This all happened because I didn't fight enough the night he was in my apartment. He got to all of you because he got to me so easily."

"Reid," Gideon tried, but Reid was trembling, trying to hold back more tears.

"Even in that house," He shuddered, remembering. "If it hadn't been for me, you all would have been able to fight him off more easily, rather then worry." He looked at the bruises on Hotch's face, remembered everyone's fear, their cries. "I'm so sorry."

Hotch moved forward and took Reid into his arms, feeling his hot tears soak through his shirt, his trembles shook them both. He had been through too much, and Aaron had no idea how he was going to bounce back. How were any of them going to move around this? Past it?

.-.-.-.-

Where were they? He screamed into his mind, cowering in the corner. He needed them, he was scared, alone. The darkness was chasing him, slowly creping in suspenseful malevolence. Painful memories, broken tears. He needed light, he needed his family.

He pressed against the wall, wishing that he could become it, anything to stay away from the ever approaching shadows. Those shadows were his fears, everything that had ever hurt and loved him. Everything that he wanted, yet feared.

There were no sedatives. That was the problem, that was why he could not escape the evil. He needed to be free of reality. A shudder. What was reality? Reality had restricted him to this room, made him an animal to be studied. It had taken him from his home, from the house he could never escape.

The door to that house stared at him from the opposite corner, he couldn't get in. He screamed, nonsensical rambling of frustration and anger. He needed to go home, he needed to put the hearts back with their bodies, to remove his and lay with the others in the cellar. Damnit! Why wouldn't they let him.

Nothing seemed real, everything was off white and closed in. He threw himself against the walls, enough of this and they'd have to sedate him, give him over to peace. Nothing in this white room was real, nothing except for the blood on his hands, blood that no one saw and never washed away. The blood of his family, the blood of he boy.

Everything hurt, everything charged him with more energy, more hate. He had almost had them! They would have conformed, and he would have used that boy like his father had used him. It had felt so good. He licked the blood on his arm, tasting.

Harder still he pounded on the walls, his knuckles were bleeding, his head throbbing. They were coming. He smiled, blood dripping from his forehead as they came in, needles in hand. Sedation. Wonderful periods where everything was good, where the shadows waited their turn to torment him, where he could remember the boy, where he could remember life as it had been all those years ago. When the door to his home opened, yet he could not enter.

Everything stilled, and, for that small window of time, he was a little boy, who knew not of what evil was. Where everything was as he was taught it should be. His father kissed him, all the while Uncle prepared dinner. Words floated through the house as Aunt Jan read, accompanied by the squeaks of a rocking chair. And a young boy cried, because soon, everything would disappear, and the shadows would be back.

-.-.-.-..-.-.-.-

**A/N:**Okay, I think this is the end, though, I'm considering a final chapter, though, this seems all right? Well, Thanks to all who read, and reviewed, I hope everyone enjoyed it.


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